A Whole New Beginning: A TSFT Alternate Ending
by Hikari Reizumi
Summary: “You are terribly pathetic, Kartik. I mean, how can you, an Indian, possibly give me my merits?” Choice. That is what it all comes down to. Gemma has to make her choice between love and death. No third alternative. Now she has to live with the inevitable.
1. Prologue

A Whole New Beginning

A/N: I do not own any of the characters seen in the Gemma Doyle Trilogy, as well as the italicized introduction and the "Lady of Shalott" belongs to Lord Tennyson.

* * *

Prologue

**Gemma's POV**

_The Rakshana have Tom._

_The Rakshana mean to take my magic, and if I deny them, they will kill my brother. And if I attempt to draw upon my power now to save Tom? I cannot say that is solely my power, and I may do more harm than good. I've nothing at my disposal tonight but my wits, and they seem little aid just now. But at present, it is the only hope I have._

"_I'm coming with you," Kartik insists._

"_You'll get yourself killed," I argue._

"_Then it's a good day to die," he says, and it makes my stomach flip._

_I put my fingers to his lips. "Don't say that."_

_He kisses my fingers, then my mouth. "I'm coming with you."_

"No," I tell him stubbornly. I cross my arms across my chest, the parcel sits on my bedside table. I am afraid for him. He may get killed, just like in my vision. I do not ever want that to happen. He has told me once that escaping is not his destiny. I want him to be with me, close to me. Fighting side by side against the Tree of All Souls. But I am frightened. I cannot risk that to happen.

I look up at him, his hands still wrapped around my waist. He has his eyes closed, breathing in my scent. I stare at him wistfully, tears forming. No. I do not want him to die. I simply cannot risk it. I love him so very much. Yet, he does not know it. I blink my eyes rapidly to stop the tears. He does not feel my queasiness or my anxiousness of what I have decided to do.

Summoning up my courage, I twist about in his arms, facing him. I wrap my hands around him and I whisper, "And at the closing of the day/ She loosed the chain, and down she lay," quoting the poem we learned the previous year. The Lady of Shalott.

Kartik's eyes opens slowly, confusion marring his brows. But I continue, "The broad stream bore her far away/The Lady of Shalott," He is staring at me now, and I stare back, trying to memorize his beautiful features. At the corner of my eye, I spy Fowlson waiting for me by a carriage. Kartik fail to notice him.

I skip a few lines, murmuring the poem and my hand touches his face, "And as the boat-head wound along/ The willowy hills and fields among," I graze his smooth cheek. Once again his eyes closes and nuzzles my palm as I come to an end, "They heard her singing her last song/The lady of Shalott."

With the last line said, I put both of my hands on his chest. I slowly curl my fingers, making a fist. I take a deep breath, imprinting this last peaceful moment in my mind. Then I push him away viciously. His eyes snap open with surprise, and he staggers backwards.

"Gem-" he starts to say, but I cut him off.

I sneer at him, hoping that my voice won't betray me, showing him what I really feel. "Do you know what came about for Elaine of Astolat?" I say bitterly. He looks at me, bewildered. I continue with my tirade, wanting to look away but couldn't, "And what of the mirror and the window?"

I swallow the bile that is rising up my throat. God, help me make this through. It is the only way, no other choice. None at all.

"Gemma…what-?"

I cut him off. "You are terribly pathetic, Kartik. I mean, how can you, an _Indian_, possibly give me my merits?" That hit home. Kartik's eyes flash with anger, surprise and the one thing I do not want to see the most – hurt. I will myself to not look away. Kartik's brows draw together, as I keep punching more buttons. "You think that dream we had in the Caves of Sighs will truly come true? Can you even be more naïve? A dream will always be a dream. Nothing more. Just like what the mirror portrayed."

It hurt so terribly to say this. I have wanted the dream to come true. I still do. But for his own sake, I must endure this. "You will go back to India." I say, weaving a spell on him. "And you will never return here. You will forget about the Rakshana and the Order. About the realms and Tree of All Souls and Amar. You will forget about the Caves of Sighs and everything that happened." I take a deep breath, "And you must forget about me," I whisper; my voice breaking.

His eyes close. His features suddenly become peaceful. No frown scarring his face. No hatred to stab me. I will miss him so. Once his eyes open, he looks about his surrounding, finally coming to a stop and looking at me. He doesn't recognize me and it hurts. His warm brown eyes has this steady gaze, waiting for an explanation.

"Thank you Mr. Kartik," I say, making up anything. I don't really care what I say, as long as it hides what I genuinely feel. I made the inevitable choice and I must live up to it. "Thank you for…" My mind goes blank. What? What am I gratifying him for? My eyes skim the spacious room and it landed on the parcel I just received. "…this parcel." I end lamely.

He nods, probably still feeling confused. But no matter. This must end now and I have to save Tom. "I'll show you to the door," I mutter. Once again, he nods, his eyes never stray to my face. That is very well expected of him. I am a lady and he, a…what? He is my friend. And I want him to be more than my friend. Yet, this terribly cruel fate is playing with us. With me.

I go down the stairs, Kartik slowly follows me. I lead him to the kitchen and show him the back door. I cannot jeopardize Kartik being found out in my household by Fowlson. It will be dreadful. Kartik goes outside, genuflecting down to me, never once looking straight to my eyes. Then, he leaves.

My eyes follow him, and I wonder if he will go back to India; following my orders. An irrevocable choice I made for him. And for me. And for the whole realm for he was of the Rakshana and I was of the Order. Was, being the keyword.

I refuse to give in to the tears that are threatening to fall. No. I must carry this out. With my chin up, I walk to the front door, and I will save my brother. I will save the realms. I will defeat the Tree of All Souls. If the untouchables and any of the realm creatures refuse to make an alliance, then I will do these alone. Utterly alone.


	2. Chapter One

A Whole New Beginning

A/N: I do not own any of the characters seen in the Gemma Doyle Trilogy.

* * *

Chapter One

The drive in Fowlson's sleek carriage is agitating. I wonder about Kartik. Is he riding the _Orlando_ at this moment, going back to India? My mind keeps wandering back and forth between Kartik and Tom. My brother, why can't he, even once, listen to me?

"Where is Tom located?" I demand. I do not like this feeling. "And why, Mr. Fowlson, do you always do their bidding? Whatever can you gain from it?" He looks at me briefly. He stops the carriage and pulls a cloth from his pocket.

"You shan't need to know." It is a blindfold. I do not resist as he ties it. "An' as for my reward, all is in good time." He secures the knot at the back of my head.

I hear his footsteps leaving, and I cannot help but taunt him further. "Is that the reason why you are here, Mr. Fowlson?" I feign innocence.

He comes back, now tying my wrists together. I can hear the glower in his voice, "That is none of your business. But once we 'ave the magic…" he trails off, assuming that I already know where that is going. And I do.

The rest of the drive is in silence. I hear the clacking sounds of the horses' footsteps and the whirling of the wheels. We do not travel far after that. I feel the carriage slows down and the horses come to a stop. " 'Ere we are," I hear him say. "This way," then, I feel him tug at the ropes on my wrist. I stand up and he leads me, with his hand on the rope.

It feels like it has been hours, as I put one foot in front of the other. I cannot see and he has my hands in a bind. A creaking resonates, a door has been opened. Then, all is silent. Whispers start to grow and the blindfold loosens. My eyes slowly adjust themselves to the dimly lit room. It is full of candles and cloaked figures are just behind the burning wax.

"Tom!" My voice sounds so loud compared to the hushed whispers around me. Then I look at my hands when Fowlson cuts the rope. The rope falls to my feet, yet my gaze is steady at his hands. At what is in his hands. It is Kartik's dagger. The one I lost when Kartik and I were running away. The very same dagger that Kartik gave me as a Christmas present. It was lost when Kartik betrayed the brotherhood. The Megh Sambara. My eyes open wide in surprise. Why did Fowlson keep it? Judging by his name, he is not Indian.

I walk to my brother once I am freed. He is so far away. I start to run, and a voice booms above me. "Stop her, at once!"

Shadows start coming in from both sides of me, but I keep going. "Gemma," Tom slurs. That makes me halt. "Don't fret. It's just an in…inish…"

"An initiation," I finish for him.

"Yes."

The shadows stop moving and I face them. "Why do you need him for?" I ask, though I already know the answer to that. They want my power. In exchange for my gift, they want to trade Tom. I cannot have it. I will not be a pawn in their game. Tom, who is tied down to a chair, without a blindfold or any other constraints, looks at me. His gaze is not steady. He is drugged. I feel anger rising up, and along with it, is my power. I cannot hold it back. But, I must. If I won't, then the Rakshana will find out that I have the power; not the Order.

I look at the group of hooded men. One of them has to be Simon's father. I want to reason out that the Order and the Rakshana should make an alliance against the dark forces of the realms. Yet, I know that this would just be tedious since they set their minds on only one thing. My power. To gain and control it. To rule the realms by means of it. Thus, I do not seek him out. I turned my head to Fowlson, then at the dagger by his hips. Calm down, Gemma, I thought to myself. It would be no good if I just unleash the magic flowing through me. My powers are too strong for me to command. It would be a catastrophe.

Slowly, ever so slowly, I let my power seep out – little by little. "Stay," I command the members of the Rakshana who are closer to me. They are rooted in place. I run to Fowlson. I know that I cannot match his strength, but maybe…just maybe, my agility and smaller form would make up for the disadvantage I have.

I run. Fast. Then, I collide with Fowlson. I have taken him by surprise and with that small amount of time, I manage to twist myself and grab the dagger. It takes him little time to figure out what I intend to do. His arms start to encircle me, but I bring the dagger down, injuring him.

He yelps in pain, the other members running to close in on me. "Get her!" I hear a voice command. I place both of my palms up, expelling more of my magic, the dagger tucked inside the sash of my waist. They are thrown aside as I make my through to Tom.

My brother's eyes are wide. He hasn't expected this to happen. What did the Rakshana tell him? That once he joined, it'll be all tea and crumpets? More of the Rakshana fellows run after me. The magic is flowing vigorously now. Sooner than I thought, then it will be a disaster. I try to grasp it, try to command it. But it is too much. With a scream, I stop suddenly. I fell on my knees and I cradle my arms. I clutch my chest. It hurts. This pain coursing inside my body. With a very powerful force, all the men slam against the wall and when they try getting up, they found themselves bound by an invisible force. They cannot move.

I feel like minutes have passed, even hours. Yet it is only seconds and the whole thing is over. I look around. Good. The spell usually lasts for an hour or two. I stand and make my way to Tom and I release the ropes around him.

"Come," I say.

Tom nods. This must be a shock for him. We go out of the room and when we get outside, I see that the place is near where Kartik used to live. We walk in silence then we hail for a carriage. We sit inside and wait for the driver. I can hear him talking to another. "…head to the Key?" _Key?_

"Aye." I hear the other say. I must investigate further. They must have finished their conversation since the carriage starts moving. The silence is deafening and Tom breaks it by conferring about the situation we were in.

"Was that…real?" What other explanation can support what just happened? I look at him and I manage to keep a sigh from coming.

"Yes. It was. Like I was trying to tell you before. I…mother did not die because of that silly excuse of an illness. She died because she was…hunted." I try to explain.

"Hunted?"

"Yes. Amar…Kartik's brother was there. He was protecting mother. But…this demon – no, creature – was too powerful and both of them were forced to face a perilous situation," I whisper. Then I added, "Amar was part of that brotherhood. But…it seems that the Rakshana turned their beliefs around."

"And you? What part do you play in this?" I smile wistfully. I want to answer that as truthfully as I can, yet, I am in the dark as much as he is.

"I…"

"Those powers. It was unbelievable," Tom sighs. "It was like this whole magnitude of an earthquake. But I know it wasn't an earthquake because no one could be thrown about if it is." He rakes his hand in his hair, his eyes closing in fatigue. I guess this is too much for him to bear. He looked so tired when he leaned against the carriage door.

"I think…I am the one that needs to stop everything. To bring peace in that other realm." My role has not been specified, however I am the hope for the realm creatures. Even when some of them think I am a traitor.

The path looks familiar now; we are closer to home. I want to mention another thing to Tom: about father and his illness. When I do though, Tom just shakes his head and says, "That was not because of your power Gemma. Father…papa…he was already like that. His habit between opium and alcohol has been constant ever since mother died. You did not notice because you didn't want to believe it. You made yourself believe that he was alright and these…mishaps…only happened recently. But they did not. They were from a long time ago."

I am silent the whole ride until we reach home. I let him inside the house first, then I turn to the driver. "Wait here." I go inside and find Tom waiting for me.

"What took you?" he asks.

"My skirt got stuck." And I show him where the rip is, which happened when I attacked Fowlson. We head to the parlor and ponder about the day. Then, a while later, Tom silently bids me goodnight. I watch his flitting figure as he climbs up the stairs. I see his light open, giving a dim-lit view of his room.

I am still sitting, wondering what I am going to do next. Tom closes his door, then turns off his light. Door…_the Key holds the truth_…I remember the picture in the book. A key or the Key? Knowing that everyone is asleep, I saunter back to the door, and I ride the carriage.

"Where to, miss?"

"Is there a place called the Key?" I ask the driver.

"Yes, mu'm. It is full of boats." _Boats?_

"I am to meet a friend at this place. But I do not know where it is," I start weaving a lie. "He told me that I only have to say 'the Key', yet I thought he was making a jest of me."

"No, mu'm. Th' Key is like a 'arbor but it is fu' of vagabonds and th' stench is just foul. No lady like 'ourself - " before he finishes the sentence, I thrust the bag of money. I do not want to hear the warning and I shan't care of the danger.

"To the Key we go," I order, my voice firm.

The travel is not long, but the silence is. As I look out at the window, I see the shops, innkeepers, the greenery and then the boats pass by. The picture of the harbor in the book was thoroughly depicted. So, it wasn't a painting, I thought. It was a window.

" 'Ere we are, miss." I do not notice that we have stopped. His voice breaks through the silence and I thank him for driving me. I step out and I notice that the Key is where Fowlson and his men chased me and Kartik – the place close to the sewer. "Be careful." With the last warning, the driver whips the reins and the horses start to move.

I turn to face the water. I see people laying about, others arguing whether or not the fortune they found is theirs. I walk a little to the right, searching for the correct boat. Then I see it. It is small and full of rust. The paint is torn off. The woods creak when I step on them. The stench is unbearable and I am forced to breath through my mouth. I go inside the boat, my palm slides to the wall as I proceed further in without any light to guide me except for the moon's. What now?

I close my eyes and I silently pray for Wilhelmina. If you can hear me, please appear, I chant repeatedly. A faint light obscures my vision when I open my eyes. _Wilhemlina?_ I follow the light. It heads up the stairs and stands in front of the farthest door. She lets me catch up to her before going inside.

I put my hands on the door handle and I twist it. It is not locked. The hinges creak softly and when I fully open it, the foul smell hit me hard. It is mixture of sweat, urine, blood and corpse. I look around for any sign of dead bodies and struggles but I found none. My eyes stray to the wall where the white figure is waiting. I see the messages written in bloody marks. I cross the room and read it. "She deceived us all," and on the other wall, "A monster." Slowly, I feel myself being drugged and falling in a vision.

I see Miss Spence, Miss McCleethy, Miss Moore, Wilhelmina, my mother and few other women sitting on the field of flowers. It seems only a couple of women are teachers at Spence Academy. They are discussing something that I can't hear. I stride closer to them, and their mouths still moving with no sounds coming out. They do not look at me and that is when I know that I am in the past.

I look around the area. I see the river and the gentle slopes of the garden full of orchids and daisies as well as other flowers I can't name. I've entered the realms. Then the scene shifts before me, now I am at school; in Miss Nightwing's office. I see Miss Nightwing and Miss Spence talking. I walk around the room and when I am facing the door, I see two students sneaking past the room. I follow them. It was my mother and Sarah – Miss Moore. They are hurrying to the East Wing.

The scene shifts again. Every time it shifts, I get dizzier. This time, the East Wing is burning. The flame crackles and grows. The curtains catch on fire and there are two girls hugging each other, kneeling on the floor. Their faces have black smudges. They are screaming at something…for someone. I look at the place that caught their attention and slowly, I witness a huge shadowed hand coming out of the fire. Miss Spence and a child in her arms – Carolina – suddenly disappear in a blinding light.

Once again, the shift happens. I am back at the realms, the Winterlands. I see unsightly creatures dragging Miss Spence in front of a tree. The wind blows. And for the first time in this vision, I hear a voice. "Come…" it whispers. Just like when I was touching the tree, the voice is passionate, loving. Like a mother's gentle whisper. Miss Spence shakes her head and the creatures clutch her hair, forcing her to look up.

"Come…" It murmurs again. Miss Spence closes her eyes. I know the feeling she is experiencing. It is like a warm embrace on a winter's cold night, a protection against anything you've been terrified about. Unbeknown to Miss Spence, the creatures behind her holds something in their hands.

I am surprised at how fast the movement is. But I see every little detail of it. The Winterland creatures bring it down. It is a sharp make-shift dagger made of wood. She arches back in pain, her mouth opening. She does not scream, yet her expression shows everything – her eyes squinting, her brows furrowing and her teeth clenching. Her hand closes tightly, scrunching the snow underneath until her knuckles turn white.

The creatures continue to pound on her back until it is full of gashes. Her clothes torn, as well as her skin. Her back in not recognizable. Blood flow endlessly and once more, I hear the lulling voice. "Come to me…" The roots of the tree slithers, taking in her blood. Then it is dark.

Another scene appears before me. It didn't shift like the other previous visions. The Winterland creatures are bowing to the tree, and its branches hug the lifeless form of Miss Spence. It swallows her in. Dark consumes again. Without warning, I hear a voice. It is Miss Spence's. A view materializes and I see the tree. Where's Miss Spence? Didn't I hear her voice? A voice sighs and it is different from before. Then I see the creatures taking life after life after life. The sacrifice. The tree. The blood. The red sky. It all makes sense now. Miss Spence is the Tree of All Souls.

"Bring her to me." I hear her say. "She is what we need. She has the power to sustain and destroy, to give life and take life, to change, to fulfill. She is what I need." The creatures bow. "Bring her to me. I need her life to regain mine. I need her blood to change my destiny. I need her power to rule and govern this wasted land. " she orders.

The scene dies down and now, I am looking at the fog filled boat. Is the vision over? The fog thickens. Apparently not. "The East Wing must be repaired. The Order shall prevail." Wilhelmina reads and she is wholly happy to be able to communicate to Eugenia once again. She tells the other Order members and they start rebuilding the Wing. Yet, she sees the darkness and the truth dawns upon her. She tries to warn the Order but they do not heed her warning. Try after unsuccessful try, and with one last attempt, she writes a letter and she keeps the dagger inside a box. She carries it with her all the time when she is with the con of a magician and she never parts with it until I see her drown.

I wake up with a gasp. I see the sun rising, indicating that I have been unconscious for a grand amount of time. I have clearly forgotten the stench and it all comes back to me. I gag and I dig into my pockets for a handkerchief. But what I pull out and hurriedly cover my nose with is Kartik's red cloth.

I smell the heady scent of spice, of cinnamon and of the evergreens. I miss Kartik terribly. I wonder what he is doing now. But I must clear my head and direct my motivation on defeating the Tree of All Souls. If it all ends…not if, but when. When it all ends, then I will go and search for him. No matter how long in takes. No matter where I go. No matter if he has moved on and happily living with his new life. I must see him just once. Just only once and I will be full of joy.

I stand up and walk outside the tiny boat. I must warn the others now. I shall tell them that they have to cease reconstructing the East Wing or the portal to the realms would reappear and the creatures would start haunting our world. My world. The human world. Where there is no magic, where there is an equilibrium between evil and good, where women gossip and men gamble. But for now, I am going to head home and wait until school arrives.

I spy a bicycle and I hope that it is good enough of transportation since I do not have any money with me to pay for a carriage. This road is flat out stable, thus I will not fall and tumble down when I ride it.

I feel sleepy, nevertheless, I pedal as hard as I can to make it to the Doyle household before grandmamma wakes up.

* * *

A/N:

Next on _A Whole New Beginning:_

Gemma finds out that Mr. van Ripple is more contempt that she has originally thought. What does this illusionist have to hide? And Felicity is slowly coming to her senses when it comes to Pippa. How would she react if she knows the truth?

Stay Tuned!!


	3. Chapter Two

A Whole New Beginning

A/N: I do not own any of the characters seen in the Gemma Doyle Trilogy.

* * *

Chapter Two

Light shines through the small opening in between the curtains of my room. I groan and roll over, turning away from the sunlight. I groggily blink my eyes, getting used to the bright room and realize that I have slept for no more than an hour. I need to be up, then mail Felicity what I discovered. The sooner everyone knows, the sooner we figure out how to defeat the Tree of All Souls. I know that in order to destroy the tree, I will need the dagger Wilhelmina kept. The one Circe stole from me. I must get it back.

There is a rap on my door. It opens and my grandmother peeks inside. "Hello Gemma," she greets. "Today is a wonderful day, do you not think so?" she smiles at me and I figure out that she is still in the confinement of my magic. Very well then, all the more that makes this day better. "Would you like to accompany me in the presence of Sister Wickerton?"

Sister Wickerton is a nun. She lives in the abbey consisting of marbled floors and walls with tinted windows and a wonderfully trimmed garth in the center of the cloister. With the coming of spring, however, people frequently get the customary cough and cold. Apparently Sister Wickerton is one of its victims.

I nod my head. I get up from my bed and start to get dress. Grandmamma is rifling in my dresser. She holds up a green dress, with a shimmering golden ribbon. It is the dress that I wore in my dreams where Kartik was with me. I sometimes dream that he will tell me how exquisite I look with the green dress then he will give me a kiss.

I look at the dress, a small smile creeping up my face. Seeing my smile, grandmamma set it on my unmade bed, her thoughts are exceedingly opposite of mine. I think of my dream, and she, of how I like to garb myself with the dress.

The maid comes and makes my bed. I see her replace the old bouquet in the vase sitting atop of my bedside table. "Where is Tom?" I am still watching the maid arrange my room and I lift the dress up. I take off my flimsy nightgown and put on the garment, my grandmamma helping me with the laces of my corset.

"He is downstairs, eating to break his fast." I do not feel like dealing with him about last night. I already have plenty of problems to sort out. With this in mind, I turn to my grandmother and ask her about my idea of mailing Felicity.

She gives me a perplexed look. I know how much the Worthingtons dismay grandmamma. She thinks of them as scandalous and unseemly. However, she relents to my inquiry and allows me to mail it after we visit Sister Wickerton. We will leave after our petit déjeuner.

When we get to the dining room, I notice that papa is not in his usual seat. I look at Tom and he looks back at me before shrugging. He does not know where father is either. I open my mouth but grandmother, sensing my upcoming question, talks before me.

"Tom," she says. "Where are you going to spend your day?"

My brother looks at me, reminiscing the night before. Then he answers, "I'm not sure. I may go see those doctors you wanted me to see before I joined that brotherhood." I smile at Tom. Thank you. He sees my smile then shrugs again.

"Gemma and I will visit the abbey," Grandmamma tells him. "It also might do well if we visit the cathedral and pray for your father," she adds. Tom and I just nod.

After we eat, I hastily write the letter to Felicity. It is just a simple note, reminding her that we should get together before we get back to the Academy. The last time I write a note is when I was upset with Kartik when he did not reply to any of my signals. I sigh. I only have one clue left that I have yet to decipher. _Beware of the birth of May._ Is May the month, or a person? I only know one May and she was already born. Evidently, I would not know her if she is about to be born.

The ride to the abbey is a fascinating one. I have never taken this route before. Although I am Christian, I have not been in a cathedral, instead I go to the church we have at school. And during holidays, we go to a chapel. The journey is a lengthy one.

At the entrance of the cathedral, I see cherubim, carved out of stone, on the gate. There are three of them. The middle, looking up, has its arms up and its hands in a cup shape. The right one, looking at its chest, is holding a heart – about the size of its fist and the cherubim on the left is carrying a tiny soundless harp, which I imagine to be gold. Their faces look so grim and lonely. As if they are waiting for something that can never be. At the very top of all three is a ribbon, a Latin sign written on it. _Deus Beatus._ The inscription reads. God Bless.

We pass the gate and lining the gardens are large statues of angels. The wings are magnificently engraved. The details are beyond amazing. Their clothes flow endlessly at their feet. Their expressions are similar to the cherubim at the front. The hair and the creases of their garments just take my breath away.

I stare at the face of one angel, and then I see real pale glistening skin, the eyes pleading for help. The hair turn soft, straight midnight black and the long pale robe sway against the breeze. I watch it intensely and I could make out tears moistening the blue eyes. It looks back at me. Making eye contact with me. My eyes widen. I shake my head then I look at it again. It is back to being a stone.

This is different. The one we have at school, aside from the gargoyles, looks at me with intense red eyes, the mouth shaping to feral scowl until I see the sharp pointed fangs. The carriage continues further down the road until it stops in the front of the abbey. A nun welcomes our visit after we stepped down from the vehicle. My grandmother asks for Sister Wickerton and she leads us inside the holy domicile for the nuns.

I look around; the tinted glass windows capture my attention the most. On one huge panel, I see Jesus and the Station of the Cross, the angels and cherubim occupy the other panels. The sun passes through the windows, giving the hallway an ethereal and majestic view. On the walls, there are more carved Latin phrases and intricate curves bordering each windows and doors.

We reach Sister Wickerton's room and I present the gift I am carrying. It is my grandmother's idea to bring her some African tea. She sets it down on her table and ushers us to the chairs.

"Thank you, Mrs. Doyle. I appreciate your coming. I truly am remorseful regarding Mr. Doyle and I am hoping that he will soon regain his strength. I pray for him," Sister Wickerton starts the conversation.

I sit around and play my dutiful role as a lady, answering often enough when I am asked. My grandmother and the nun have a lot to talk about. I notice that whenever my grandmother is giving her speech about the impetuosity of the era's newest generation, Sister Wickerton gazes at me. I wonder if there is something on my face or if I behaved improper. We spend about an hour or two before Sister Wickerton announces that she needs to retire to her chamber.

Grandmother stands up and I follow her suit. She is already outside when I feel Sister Wickerton's hand on my arm. I turn around, curiosity etch on my face. She leans closer to me and secretly gives me a worn-out book. She whispers in riddle, "An impending doom approaches. Do not trust; do not listen. Here lies the answer." She taps my chest, where my heart is. She gives me a pitied look and strokes my cheek. "I pray for you and your allies. Good luck."

I tuck the book in the hidden pocket of my dress. I just stare at her quizzically and she gives me the warmest smile. She knows and she tells me what I should have been anticipating, "I was part of the Order. The way I run my life right now is the result of the disturbance of the power's equilibrium. It must be brought back to where it originally came from."

She turns around and sits on her bed. I thank her and I am on my way to escort grandmamma out the abbey. We walk down the hall, our conversation in hushed whispers. I see that the carriage waits for our return. I remind grandmother that I have to mail a message for Felicity. It seems she has forgotten.

"Gemma," grandmamma calls out. "Your debut in the presence of the queen is two days as of now. Have you rehearsed?" We look at the shops after I dropped off the message. Fee shall get it by tomorrow afternoon.

"Yes I have, grandmamma," I answer politely.

"Well then, we must visit some shops to buy you new dresses. Shall we?"

We walk around town, looking for extravagant dresses that will suit for the upcoming occasion. It is a fine day and, while searching for the right garments, grandmother also got few sweets to snack on.

Beside the thrift shop is a gown store. On display is a truly magnificent blue dress. It looks velvet; but it shimmers when light hits the cloth. It is a perfect counterpart for my barrette made of lapis lazuli. The dress has high neckline and puffy sleeves, which would hide my wide shoulders.

The waist is not pinched, rather it softly molds the statue's body. Excellent. I do not have to tightly fasten my corset. I would rather faint in my uneasiness when I curtsy before the queen, than faint due to lack of oxygen. And the bell bottom would hide my narrow hips.

My grandmother must have noticed my expression and look over to see what captured my attention. I hear her intake of breath. So, she sees it as a fine piece of gown too. She takes my arm and leads me to the shop. She asks one of the vendors to take it down. After examining the blue dress, which I notice has golden laces, she purchases it and it comes with a pair of pale blue gloves. My attire is all set for my debut. The single thing I need to practice now is my bowing – to express my deferential courtesy – facing the queen with the utmost grace.

It is only a little after noon, and grandmother told me that we will go home in about an hour. We sweep past through different shops before we come across a bulletin advertisement. It's a circus, and there, painted on the picture, I see the realm creatures. And Theodore van Ripple, the illusionist. Maybe he has more in-depth information than he lets on.

"Grandmamma," I call her, pointing at the poster. "The circus will visit tomorrow. They will stay here for at least three days. After my debut in two day, may I go see the circus with Felicity?" I ask.

Grandmamma looks doubtful for a moment. A circus is a not place where one without ill-reputation can be found.

"Felicity, you say?" Since Felicity and Admiral Worthington are considered to belong in a membership of the finest reputable citizens, grandmother may yield in her decision.

"Yes, grandmother. Felicity." I add with conviction.

Grandmother sighs, "Very well, then. But do be careful when you attend this…" she gives the poster an appalled look. She continues, "…this event."

I smile warmly at her, "Thank you. You have given me the most wondrous present!" Well, I know that she is thinking what to give me for my debut. This can be it. But Felicity has to know, and I already gave her a message. I do not want to repeat things I've already done.

I am mulling over this thought when I hear my name. I turn around and I see Ann. My grandmother scoffs at her before trying to pull me aside.

"Grandmother, I shall be with you in a second." I tell her and she looks at me. She is about to argue when I say, "please." Then she releases her hold on my arm before continuing to go inside and buy a ticket for the circus.

"Ann, how have you been?" I ask pleasantly. I am still carrying the bags of sweet and my gown in my hands. Ann eyes them, no expression can I read on her face. Then she looks at me and smile. Although I know that her smile is what she uses to mask what she truly feels.

"I am magnificent. No children burdening me and people really enjoy my singing." I give her a fondly smile. "What are you doing here?"

I tell her about my intention of buying a circus ticket. I invite her to go along with me and Felicity. Her eyes widen in thought. Sure, although she is not considered a lady, she still keeps up with what the society considers decent. A circus is not part of it.

"But…Gemma – "

"Ann, look." I point at the poster. She looks at it, then at me. She does not see what has intrigued me to buy a ticket. "Look closer," I insist.

When we are at the realms, Ann has never really paid attention to any of the creatures. She mostly gives herself the pleasure of knowing that she can be beautiful and be a great singer. She plays pretend with Pippa and Felicity and she gives herself some delight of changing repulsive items to pleasant ones.

"Um…Gemma, are you talking about that illusionist?" Finally, a face she recognizes.

I encourage her further to look for more recollection of any realm creatures. "Go on," I say. I am looking at her expectantly. She furrows her eyebrows and purses her lips in concentration.

"I do not see what you mean, Gemma," she finally comes into a conclusion.

I sigh. Well, I'd just tell her what I see. "These," I start, "are the realm creatures."

Her eyes widen and she gasps. "But…but, how can that be? Did they use the portal? The one in the East Wing at Spence?"

I shake my head. She continues, "We have to let Felicity know about this!" she indignantly exclaims. When she regains her composure, she hesitantly asks, "How can you be sure?"

I point to the creature farthest at the back, on the right. She sees serpents curling about each other on the top of a wooden figure. "This is Gorgon." I outline the boat-shaped body. "And this," pointing at a short, gangly creature, "is Neela. The crows here are the poppy warriors." My forefinger drifts to the crows above everyone in the picture. On the left of Mr. van Ripple is a dainty pinkish figure. "Asha, the untouchable." Sliding my finger next to her, I say, "Philon of the Forest Folks." At the far back, beside Gorgon, I whisper, "Creostus, the centaur who got killed."

Ann looks at me alarmed. "Killed? When? How?"

I shake my head. "They think I killed him. But I didn't. I do not know whether his death was done intentionally or not." But why would anyone murder him? I contemplate. He will be a great asset when we attack the Tree of All Souls and the Winterland creatures.

"I'll buy a ticket, inside." Ann states. "I will come out soon."

I stare at the picture. Grandmother probably left me already. I move to the side and the picture shifts. Is this one of the optical illusions I hear about? I move back to where I was before and the picture does the same. There is another creature that I have yet to identify.

Ann comes out and stands beside me. "Ann," I whisper. After I deciphered the image, I have gone cold. My eyes widen and I feel chilly. Yet, my hand has gone clammy as if it is a hot summer day and I can feel my dress sticking to my back.

"What is it?" She looks at my distraught expression.

I step aside, and I grope for Ann's arm and she gives it to me. "Look." From where we are standing now, we see a different picture. The Tree of All Souls stands tall in the midst of the Winterland creatures; Amar is proudly sitting on top of a horse. But what catches out attention the most is the face peeking behind the tree.

"This is awful." Ann mutters.

"We cannot do anything." I shake my head. Felicity has to know about this.

We look at it once more, hoping that we are mistaken. But the image does not change. It is still our beautiful Pippa.

"Felicity…" Ann trails off.

I nod gravely. Felicity will be devastated when she hears about this. Will she agree to come with us knowing that Pippa is one of them now? Knowing that she has sacrificed an innocent life? Felicity and Pippa, an inseparable pair, a juxtaposition of day and night, dainty and strong, good and evil. Will this result to a crucial end of their love for one another or will one convert to have a sense of belonging in the spiteful world? If it is the latter, I can only pray that Felicity will stay on our side.

"I'll tell Fee to buy a ticket." Ann breaks my musings. "I am visiting her these past days. Since she is with Polly and I no longer work for my cousin, I thought that I could help Felicity with the sitting," she explains. "But…"

"Do not show Felicity what we saw. Do not even utter a word about Pippa. Just tell her about my idea of going to the circus, the one where we can get additional clues since the illusionist will be doing the show. Understood?" I watch her nod.

She is nervous and so am I. Nothing passes easily with Felicity. Hopefully this excuse will. "Well then," I say. "I better go. Grandmamma must be impatient by now. I have held up much time as I could."

I bide her goodbye and I leave her standing beside the poster.

-o-

**Felicity's POV**

A typical day in the Worthington's household – I am alone in my house, save for the servants and Polly. Sweet, sweet Polly. Ann has gone to town. She is pleasant with Polly and I think she has taken to Polly's liking too.

I had a wicked night. It felt as if father was here in the room with me. I was damp with sweat and my breathing was not steady. I did not know what caused it. I still don't. I usually felt like that whenever my father creeps up to my chamber or Polly's. I remember bits and pieces of my dream last night. I do not have nightmares. At all. Even when my admiral of a father takes advantage of me.

In my dream, the pieces I still recall, there was this beautiful girl. Her face was shadowed, but I know she was pretty. Her eyes glowed red then changed to blue and gray. Who is she? She feels familiar. Her long dress was wrinkled and ripped, stained with crimson. Paint? Berries? Blood? Same red blemish was found on the fingers of her gloves.

That is all I remember. Just that distinct image. I do not remember where she was standing. My mind is all fogged up. A crash brings me out of my reverie. Ann. She is always clumsy, truly clumsy that she cannot even properly hide the incisions blanketing her wrists. She thinks she is doing well of hiding it, but I can wage that even Gemma and Miss Nightwing knows about this.

"Felicity!" My name echoes inside my house. I hear footsteps following the shout. Then, my door has been barged open.

"What is the fuss about?" I ask, annoyed.

Ann stands on the other side of my room, looking bedraggled. She takes a very deep breath before crossing the room, disregarding how filthy she appears. She sits in front of me and says excitedly, "You want to accompany me and Gemma in the circus?"

Circus? What a fascinating idea. It will be truly entertaining. After I make my debut, perhaps this can be the last indecent escapade I can do before I join the society as a respectable citizen. A lovely idea indeed.

"Yes." I answer. "What brought this on?"

Ann, conceivably saw my skepticism, answers, "Well…" she drags on. I stare at her. She continues, "I saw Gemma facing a circus poster and she pointed out Mr. van Ripple. And she said that…well…perhaps he could offer more ideas about Wilhelmina."

Ah. The illusionist. I knew there was something else entirely different about the situation. Ann and Gemma will not necessarily agree to go to a scandalous event easily. I usually am the mastermind behind these actions.

"Is that it?" I ask.

"Yes."

"Very well then. When did Gemma say we will attend?"

Ann contemplates about this. Did Gemma tell her when and she forgot? Or maybe Gemma made incomplete decisions. That is what Gemma had been doing recently when she went to the realms without us.

"The day after your debut, I think."

I smile.

I hear Polly running up the staircase to my room. She bounds to my room, squealing my name.

"Felicity! Felicity!" Polly turns to Ann, "Good afternoon, Miss Ann."

Ann looks at her and I watch Ann interact with my cousin. She smiles gently and I can see that she is trying to resist pinching Polly's cheek. She is quite an adorable sight. Her cheeks have been sun kissed and there are few smudges across her tiny nose.

"What is the matter, Polly?" I ask tenderly.

She brings her doll with her and I see that she put flowers on its head. She smiles toothily at me and Ann. "Can you and Miss Ann play tea house with me and Letty?" she indicates to her doll.

I give her a pointed stare. She adds, "Please?"

I sigh, hiding my amusement. "Of course."

We set the table for the tea house game that Polly frequently plays. We sit on our supposedly respective chairs; drinking on miniature teacups and chewing invisible biscuits. At least, for now, I can relax and disregard my horrid dream.

* * *

A/N: Please Review!

Next on _A Whole New Beginning_:

Before she goes to her debut, Gemma opens the book Sister Wickerton gave her. What is inside the book that will give her further understanding of the realms? Perhaps a surprise! And in time for her debut, will the Winterlands creature appear and haunt her during her big event?

Stay Tuned!


	4. Chapter Three

A Whole New Beginning

A/N: I do not own any of the characters seen in the Gemma Doyle Trilogy.

* * *

Chapter Three

**Gemma's POV**

Tonight is my debut before the queen. I know Felicity would be there, and hopefully, Ann as well. Tonight I will be able to converse with them regarding the circus tomorrow and the message I sent two days ago.

I spend my whole afternoon practicing for tonight's event. I curtsy in front of my full body mirror while the whole house is in complete chaos. I try to imagine Miss Nightwing's voice inside my head, her orders about how we should stand up straight with our backs plastered on a stiff board, glide gracefully across the room and then bow while balancing two thick books on our heads.

I tire easily with this activity. I sit ungracefully on my bed, bouncing a little. I look out at the window and I see leaves swaying against the breeze. The light peeks through the minute gaps formed by the leaves. This fine, cool day reminds me so much of the realms. The fresh, gentle wind caressing my hair, flowers everywhere in the garden.

My thoughts drift to Kartik. Whenever I think about the realms or anything related to it, I usually end up musing over Kartik. It has been four days, counting the day I spellbound him.

I miss him terribly so. I still keep the red cloth he gave me. I first found it in my pocket when I visited the Key. I had forgotten that he lent it to me. I never found the chance to return it to him. Now, that he is in India, I do not think I will be given that chance. Odds are that I will likely die while fighting the Tree of All Souls or I would never see him again. Comparing England to India, India is bigger and it has larger population. If I am not able to find him in a small country such as this, what is the possibility of finding him in a country as large as India? Nil.

I sigh, digging under my pillow before I feel the whisper of the red cloth on my fingers. I grab it and I clutch it to my chest. Oh, Kartik. I wonder what he is doing now. He is probably helping unfortunate people. Like he did when those penniless kids asked him for some coins. And he did not have much himself. Kartik will always be Kartik: worrying about people, helping them with much gusto. I know he shan't change even when I erased his memories.

It hurt so much to do that. I could feel my ragged breathing when I made that decision. Now that I am alone in my room, I can let these past few days consume me. I am terribly stressed. And this is only the beginning. I will not think of that, for now. As of now, I only want to ponder about the days that passed. I will not make any hasty decisions today. I will wait for the others.

That is what happened in the realms. The Order appointed themselves to keep the magic. They did not dispute it with the other creatures. And my fate, along with a few others and the realm creatures, is the result of that horrible choice. Perhaps, my upbringing also played a role in my fate, since I am the daughter of Mary Dowd. The very same Mary Dowd who was part of the order, sacrificed a life, escaped the fire and was murdered by Circe.

I play with the corners of the piece of cloth and I let my mind drift. While reminiscing, a sudden thought occurs to me. In one swift motion that I know grandmother would not approve of, I approach my vanity table and pick up the tiny book that Sister Wickerton gave me.

I ruffle through the pages, watching the words, numbers and pictures fly by. For a palm-sized book, it is thick. Probably more than two hundred pages. I flip to the first page of the book. It is filled with names and dates and classifications. The latter goes on for about a little less than half of the book. At the top, the writing is blocked and thick. Headings, I'm assuming. A short list of names and dates, as well as the creatures and places found in the realms, is found in the first page.

_**The Realms**_

_The Order  
_

Mrs. Euginia Spence: May 6, 1812 – June 21, 1871

Mrs. Lillian Nightwing: February 12, 1818 –

Miss Clair McCleethy: October 15, 1845 –

Sarah Reese-Toome: July 22, 1855 – June 21, 1871

Mary Dowd: April 19, 1855 – June 21, 1871

Wilhelmina Wyatt: October 28, 1857 –

_The Rakshana_

Lord Denby: January 2, 1823 –

Hugo Fowlson: March 16, 1844 –

Amar: November 23, 1868 –

Theodore van Ripple: September 8, 1846 –

Laurent Neige: December 5, 1801 – April 29, 1884

_Creatures_

Forest People

Centaurs

Gorgons

Shape-shifters

Untouchables/Hajin

Poppy Warriors

Faeries

Winterlands Creatures

_ Places_

The Temple

The Caves of Sighs

The Winterlands

The Borderlands

The Gardens

The Forests

Since the deaths of Amar and Wilhelmina are not listed, this book must have been written a little over a year ago. I search for Kartik's name and I find that it is also not listed in the brotherhood of Rakshana. In the end he was treated as a recent member of the brotherhood even when he spent his whole lifetime training to acquire a higher rank.

After the list, at least half of the book is consumed of detailed explanations for every single entry on the list. The biographies and histories of the Order and Rakshana members, as well as the powers, history and location of each realm creatures are written. The places are described vividly and, in addition, how they take part in the realms.

This can be an absolutely useful book for the individuals who do not know these facts. I, on the other hand, am only searching for the Tree of All Souls. I thumb the pages, skimming through the information I already have the knowledge of.

Midway of the book, the endless paragraphs and the numbers stopped, being replaced by pictures. There are no illustrations, even rough sketches, of the men and women belonging in the Order and the Rakshana, however. I glance through them, occasionally stopping to stare longer at those that interest me. I realize that the realm back then is similar to the realm before Pippa's demise. There is only one thing I found odd. Although every thing is the exact images of the realm and its creatures, the Winterlands changed dramatically. There was no red sky, or repulsive looking creatures prowling around and sneaking off to find a sacrifice. There was only this majestic tree rooted on the lush, green grass and I am surprised to find that the Winterlands is not originally winter all season.

That is the last page of the book. I sigh. I only learned one thing and that is about the Winterlands. It is not valuable whatsoever. I stand up to place the book back on my vanity table and when I set my foot on the floor, I hear scrunching noises. I look down, and I discover that a paper is stuck under my foot. I pick it up, perhaps the maids forgot to throw it. I open it and there, written on the top, is my name and under it, underlined, is _The Tree of All Souls_.

I am confused. The book is all tattered, a number of its pages are hanging only by a thread. The paragraphs written look gray, due to the fading of black in time. The paper I found looks new; the ink, still black as tar. I search at the bottom for a name, but I cannot find any signature. The paper and the typescript look familiar, though.

I probe in my mind, wondering where I saw the page I hold in my hands. The Shakespearean book? Sir Alfred Tennyson? The Brontës? No. None of those. What else?

Then it hit me. It came from the book that Miss McCleethy threw in the oven! The one Felicity, Ann and I purchased for four shillings, concerning all mythical creatures written by Miss Wilhelmina Wyatt.

"Gemma!" I hear my grandmother calling me. I hastily hide the book and the paper under my pillow. Not a moment later, my door is ajar and grandmamma's head is peering at me. "Why are you still on the bed? We will leave at half an hour!" Like a torrent of wind, she crosses my room and pulls me up harshly by my arm. "We have to dress you, now!"

At her orders, the maids are bustling in my room, preparing my clothes for my debut. Other maids prepare my shoes and don my hair into a tight bun, while some put a dash of colouring on my face.

I spy the maid I like best. She is kind and sweet and she does anything I tell her within reason. When the maids step away from me to examine their work, I excuse myself and get up. Grandmamma is at the back of my room watching as my preparation takes place. She looks at me when I saunter to where my dress is, and I pretend to search for a maid that can help me put it on. I do not want her to see that I have preference in our maids.

I approach the maid that I like and hand her my dress. Politely, I ask, "Can you please help me put this on?"

"Yes, miss."

She takes my dress from my hands and holds it up for me so I can get into it. I turn my back to her and grandmamma, then I whisper to avoid grandmother from hearing our conversation, "Please do not tightly fasten my corset." The maid adjusts and loosens my undergarment before closing the buttons on the back of my garb for tonight's event.

Grandmamma does not suspect a thing.

-o-

One word to describe the palace is grand. At the first step I took after I stepped down from the carriage, I felt my head automatically rise. The palace is huge and marvelous. It seems as if it is glittering under all those stars. As of this moment, I am waiting behind the heavy curtains for the host to call my name. Then I will walk forward with my head up and bow to the queen in front of me.

There are bright crystal chandeliers hanging over our heads, the floor is thoroughly clean that I can see my own reflection. There are girls before me and behind me who are giggling uncontrollably. My silly presumption regarding those nervous chuckles is that it is probably how they take care of their nervousness. I have walked around the area while waiting for my name, yet I have not seen Felicity anywhere behind the curtains.

I have not seen Ann either but I know she is sitting somewhere along with the vast number of families in the audience. She has probably taken a secluded spot, where not a lot of people would see her or know her. After her deceit as the beautiful cousin of a Lord in Russia, people started spiteful gossips and torment her further, as if her shame and guilt is not enough.

I never knew there are numerous family whose surname starts with A, B and C. I thought I would stride earlier than most since my last name begins with D. With all this delay, I find myself growing more and more agitated and panicky.

What if I start hallucinating while I walk? Would I see faeries and gargoyles? The angels and cherubim near the cathedral and the abbey? Or, what if due to this restlessness, I throw up at the feet of the queen? That would be excruciatingly discomfiting. And if my dear brother, Tom, makes uproarious remarks at my expense? I can only imagine myself hurling inappropriate insults at him before the queen. That is absolutely not expected from a lady.

I keep pacing back and forth, twisting then untwisting and then twisting again my satin handkerchief until it is utterly distorted. Then, seemingly out of nowhere and with a surprise and a nervous jolt from me, I hear the host call out,

"Tonight, in the honourable household of Doyles, may I present Gemma Doyle!" I place my handkerchief back in my pocket and I take few shaky steps until I reach the curtains. They slightly open, without showing the other girls at the back. I inhale deeply and as I am about to take my first step, I hear an enthusiastic, "Good luck, Gemma!" somewhere at the back.

Felicity. Oh, how much I want to turn my head and yell at her for ruining my concentration, but since I already lift up my foot, I have to continue with the steps. It is dim behind the thick, heavy drapes, but out here, out in front of all absolute glory, the light is blindingly brilliant. I fight the urge to turn my head away and lift my gloved hands to cover my eyes. What's more, I feel my eyes itching and twitching from all the disturbing intensity of the brightness.

I focus on my feet, but my eyes never stray away from the queen. I do not make any eye contact, though, since that is considered inappropriate. One must always keep their eyes away to deliver utmost respect. When I reach the portion of time when I have to bow, I slowly come to a stop – not an immediate one. I bow before the queen, my breath in ragged puffs. My mouth opens a little so the audience, especially the queen, will not hear my rapid breathing.

And before I knew it, I am back inside the dim area behind the draperies. It is over and I have not any clues as to how I made it back. Did I hasten, trip, or worse, hurl? Or did I have grace, beauty and poise? The only memory that I scrupulously remember is my curtsy right in front of the majestic queen of England.

-o-

I thought I will have an abundance of time to idly chat with Felicity and Ann as my family go about and congratulate the families. That would very well be my grandmother's idea of friendliness, politeness and of decent association.

Unfortunately, my father has gone worse and we have to take leave. They are only waiting for me to reach the back behind the curtains. I excuse myself and I search for Felicity as they wait to hail a carriage.

I find her leaning on where the drapes meet the wall. I approach her quickly and, with a plenty of hand gestures, I tell her that I have found more important clues and that I will tell her the rest of the details tomorrow at the circus. Before she starts asking questions, I do not give her the chance to even open her mouth the slightest. I rapidly talk then I turn back and run to meet my family outside the palace, seldom evading the girls who are blocking my way.

* * *

A/N: Please Review!!

Next on _A Whole New Beginning:_

Gemma, Ann and Felicity goes to the circus to investigate. Why do the realm creatures appear in the poster? And what does Mr. van Ripple have to hide?

Stay Tuned!


	5. Chapter Four

A Whole New Beginning

A/N: I do not own any of the characters seen in the Gemma Doyle Trilogy.

* * *

Chapter Four

Yesterday, at my debut, I told Felicity to meet me in front of the shop where I bought the circus tickets. Ann is with her so I know that she is leading the way. Tomorrow, we have to return to Spence, thus making this week dreadfully hectic. First, I had to save Tom from joining that bloody brotherhood, then I had to prepare for my debut. Thirdly, was the debut itself and after that is this circus. Not to mention, I had to fill up my baggage for the new semester at the Academy.

Today is indeed a fine day. I dress sensibly since now I am considered a lady. Not the silly little girl who was running around, barefooted and talking to tigers. No. Overnight, I changed from that active, innocent child to a sophisticated, respectable lady. Although I altered what I seem on the outside, inside I am the same Gemma Doyle who is learning the wondrous language of French and taking abstract lessons from art, to sewing to poetry. I am still the Gemma who has fallen in love with an Indian boy and the very same Gemma who is responsible for bringing peace and harmony in the universe of the realms.

I simply do not know what to feel. Sure, in other people's eyes, I am a different individual. To them, they think I should feel excited since I reached my marital age and I will inherit all those finest assets my family has. To them, I am a poise gentle woman who giggles behind her fan and sips a cup of tea with my pinky finger standing.

They truly do not know who I am. I still am the same no matter how many initiations I go through to become someone entirely different. I am an English woman and I grew up in India. My mother got murdered by a monster and my father looses himself in opium. I have a grandmother who is stern and a very gullible brother. I have a friend who cuts herself, another was sexually abused by her father and the last, sacrifices naïve factory girls. I see things that are not believable, I travel between worlds and I have the power to change their destinies.

So if I mention this to anyone of those people, what will they think of me now? A lunatic who belongs in Bedlam? Or a girl with an oversized imagination? Will they still think of me as a charismatic and refined gentle woman?

I do not think so.

In my hands is the book I wrapped in a small cloth; the letter is tucked in between its pages. In all honesty, I never considered myself as a patient individual. But while I am waiting for Ann and Felicity – and plenty of time has already passed – I watch single women flirt, while the mothers tend their children.

Would my future be somewhat like theirs? A world full of hierarchy where men decides and governs, women follow and look after the household and children go to school and learn to grow up to be what their parents want for them. Another inevitable choice I have is to die while fighting against the Tree of All Souls and Amar. Perhaps, I can make another choice. I should. In fact, it would be an unseemly one that I know grandmother would not be proud of. I could travel; go to Paris, New York, and even back to India.

I recall myself making a promise that I will search for Kartik after all these happen. And I will not back out like a cowardly dog. If I can face the Tree of All Souls and Amar whom has excellent fighting capacity, will I be able to offer any reasons at all as to why I should back out on my word?

The answer? Yes, there is a reason. A very simple one. An irrevocable one. One that will change the course of my life, depending on how his reaction would be like.

I absently thumb the pages of the book, idly eavesdropping to the conversations around me. There is a café nearby, Parisian style. I see the waiter wiping each table. The view is blocked by a merchant selling bundle of cloths and accessories. I see the horse thumping the road, creating clouds of smoke by its feet. When the smokes cleared away, I see a tiny pixie just beside the hooves. She looks at me, then she places her forefinger on her lips.

Silence. She wants me to be silent. Why would I cause a scenario here in town? I know people would not believe me when I tell them there is a pixie. I know these kinds of people. I know that they only believe what they see.

I hear my name. Ann is calling me and she is with Felicity. I wave them over where I am sitting, then I look back at the horse. Specifically, the pixie by the horse's foot. But it already disappeared.

"What are you looking at, Gemma?" Ann is curious to know.

"Not much. I thought I saw I pixie close to where that horse is." I point at the horse that is now being fed by the merchant.

"Um…in case you forgot, Gemma. Pixies only exist in the realms. And unless they can open that door of light, they can never cross over to our world." Felicity reminds me, a worried look on her face. "Maybe what you saw is a vision?" She inquires.

I know whether when I fall into another vision or when I see things. I can tell the tremendous difference between the two. I shake my head at Felicity. "No," I say. "Maybe I am just overwrought with all these occurrences."

Before we give our tickets to the guard, I showed them what I found out. I read the piece of paper last night, regarding the Tree of All Souls, when everyone thought I was asleep. It is a very useful piece of information. Not only it has the history of the realms, it also contains the upbringing of the tree and how it plays a part in the realms. One thing is for sure though, and that is I did not like what I read whatsoever.

-o-

The circus is phenomenal. When we got inside, there are already elephants walking around. There is a humongous, red cloth with green trims on their backs. It covers a triangular area on their head and it ends where the tail starts. They remind me so much of India.

I look up and I see ropes and circle metals. On one corner, the food vendors are making their profits. We spot a space where we can all seat comfortably. With all the ogling at all constituents of the circus, I have not yet spotted the illusionist.

Once we are seated, I just realized that this place is packed and noisy. I sit in between my two friends, waiting for the show to begin. I discreetly lean towards Ann and I ask her if Felicity has gotten any idea about Pippa and the Winterlands. I thank the noise for concealing this question from Fee.

Ann merely shakes her head. Good.

The show starts by dimming the light we have. The announcer starts talking, giving us his greatest gratitude, then proceeding on telling us how the event would go. There is a brief intermission in the middle when people can buy more foods and circus toys, puppets for instance.

I contemplate this idea. An intermission can certainly help me sneak around the area and look for any clues concerning the realms. And if I see the conman, the intermission is also the best time to interrogate him further.

-o-

**Felicity's POV**

I agreed to go to the circus. But when Ann and I are nearing the place, I cannot place the sudden dreadful feeling I got. My heart beat faster, and I feel cold. It is like something is sucking my breath out of me.

When Ann calls out Gemma's name, there is a piercing pain I feel. I have choked on my breath, but I play it coy, and I act like my usual self so my two companions would not suspect a thing.

But this hurts. I do not know where. I only know that my insides are wrenching in pain, and I terribly want to writhe instead of hiding it all in my façade. What is happening? The most recent time I ever felt like this was that dream. But this one, this pain is worse. It is like I am walking towards a dangerous road and I know it, but I cannot make myself to cease walking.

It is like as if I have no any other choice but to take this path straight on. Once we are seated, I stare ahead, at where the elephants are making their march. My eyes do not move from that spot until I am staring at nothing and I hear nothing. Nothing at all.

I do not panic because I am used to this position before. I will drift into this nothingness after my father has his way with me. Sometimes, I will think about my purpose in this world. My mother abandoned me and went to Paris to work as a courtesan, leaving me all alone with father. Sometimes, I feel as if my father and mother did not love each other at all. I know that there is a cornucopia of arrange marriages in the West, but at least those couples tolerate each other.

With my weird imagination, sometimes I feel that my mother is banished from my father's household because she is not a member of those high social elites and his family needs someone who would inherit their fortune. I do not know the reason at all as to why I am here in this world. My purpose. I believe that there is no purpose for me since I am one of _those _people. The kind of people that others turn their backs to. The only time I feel that I actually belong is when I am with Pippa. When I am in the realms. But…

But, there is this one particular time when I felt threatened. Since then, I questioned what I really am. I know that Pippa loves me, not as a friend, but romantically. Is that why I turned him away? Is it because of Pippa? Or is it because I am afraid of what he will find out. I was being unfair and mean towards him. I acted as if I was uninterested. What is the reason?

I know I act like a selfish little girl. That is because of what I endured. I want to be cared for, to be appreciated. I want to belong. And I want to be loved. Yet, I did not get all of those until I met Pippa. Is that the reason I why ignored him? Because I feel indebted to Pippa? I gave him the reason that he was a gypsy. But I know that I was lying to him and to myself. He did not know that. And now, Ithal is dead.

Do I really love him? As much as Pippa? As much as how Gemma loves that Indian boy, Kartik? The last time we met, he was looking at me with such hatred that I cannot help but to look away. His eyes held danger and ferocity. He may think that I was ignoring him. But at that time, I was thinking that it was better that way. Danger and ferocity, huh? Perhaps, he can manhandle me? Oh, what a naughty little thought. When we go to realms, will I see him there? Whenever I see Pippa in the realms, I am excited and happy. What will I feel if I see him? Will he still be angry? Upset? Will he detest me?

Now, I find myself growing more insecure. All those feelings that I just thought – anger, upset, hate. What if the Winterlands creatures use this to gain in numbers? Turn him against us? Against me? They will know he is capable in battle.

And Pippa? Gemma is acting funny around her recently. Is it because she knows something about Pippa that I don't? That is absurd. I love Pippa and she loves me. I know her more than anyone does. And she tells me everything! If there is anything wrong, I am absolutely sure that she will mention them to me, sooner or later.

I feel Gemma lean over to Ann. She is probably telling her something about the circus. Maybe in India, she saw plenty of these events. I know that Gemma does not have to uphold any reputation back in her country.

I feel better now, but I cannot shake the dreadful feeling that I have. I am not hurt, but I feel anxious. My, what I boisterous circus! I've never seen so much excitement in my life! Now I am wondering whether or not I should bring Polly to one of these things. I am certain that she will like this. The girl's got an imagination and a sense of adventure. And this seems like an adventure for a girl her age.

"Ladies and gentlemen; boys and girls, prepare to be amazed at this gentleman, over here, performing the first act! The Flaming Sword Eater!" The announcer yells.

A half-naked man approaches the stage. Many ladies gasp at the show of barbarism. The man holds a sword on one hand, and the other a stick with a flaming end. He bonds them together with a rope by the handle.

We are just watching in awe. The audience is silent, waiting for the man to continue his performance. Then, catching us off guard, he tilts his head and inserts the blade and fire down his throat.

I look at Gemma and Ann. Their mouths are gaping in wonder and curiosity. I can feel myself do the same thing. I turn back at the performer as he pushes the sword further down until only the handle is outside his mouth. My eyes are extremely large right now, like every spectator in this show.

Slowly, the man grips the sword and starts pulling it until he removes it from his mouth, still aflame. Clutching it in one hand, he starts wielding the blade until he makes the fire longer.

We hold our breaths, wonder written all over our faces. Why is the fire still there? It is unbelievable. Are we made of substance that once fire is inserted inside, it will not be put off? I look at the fire move, and then an image starts to form, trailing behind it. I focus on the image and I see the Poppy Warriors! I gasp, look at Ann and Gemma to confirm what I just saw. They are already looking at me and we all nod to each other.

This circus show is going to be interesting.

-o-

**Ann's POV**

That fire eater is an exhilarating one. I am mortified, yet enthusiastic. I know it sounds insane, but I have never felt this way before – a juxtaposition of conflicting emotions. Wow. No wonder my cousin's daughter is a rascal. No matter what I say, she does not obey. Perhaps she could not understand me at all. I mean, maybe I am far too smarter than her. What kind of child would even understand "a juxtaposition of conflicting emotions"?

Why am I even thinking of her now? She made me miserable. It is possible that I am thinking of her out of guilt. I am supposed to be her governess. A responsibility that I did not choose for myself. Maybe, I feel blameworthy since I refuse to take on being a governess. Now since that is what I have done, my whole future is askew.

I have always thought that I will end up as a governess or anything along that line of work. I never thought that I can follow my dreams and live like that. There are choices I made, and some, I will make. For instance, whether or not I leave the country to pursue me singing career.

I am cowardly, and I have proofs for that. They are completely visible on my wrist. I have low self-esteem, and some can say that is an understatement. But, being with Gemma, Felicity and even Pippa in the realms have taught me a great lesson. They taught me that even there are no choices to decide from, we can always create an alternative.

The next act after the sword-and-fire eater is a lion tamer. I am bewildered at the fact that the eater could make an image of a realm creature come out. How does he know about it? Did he just make a random guess? If he can make a poppy warrior come out using flames, I am anticipating which creature this presenter would create.

A woman steps in the cage with the lion. The lion thunderously growls and few ladies behind me gasp in fright. The tamer takes out her whip and lashes it out two times. The humongous cat quiets down and stares at her intently, watching her each and every move.

The tamer raises her hands and the cat jumps, surprising us all. It goes inside a ring of fire at the very top of the cage; then it leaps down without burning a single golden fur. We applaud. The grace the majestic lion has awes us to no end. But I am still waiting for that realm creature.

Three boxes, painted with shimmering water, are put inside the cage and two smaller lions join in. Each cat jumps onto a box from smallest to biggest. I squint my eyes, trying to decipher what the tamer is attempting to do.

She raises both gloved hands and the lions' heads follow her action. She crosses them at the top, palms open. The biggest lion exchanges its place with the middle one. She does another hand sign then the biggest one hops to swap its place with the smallest lion. She does a final signal with her hand – involving the whip – and the two tiny lions switch their places with one another, creating another sight of lions from biggest to smallest.

Once their places are taken, the images on the boxes spin rapidly until we can see water full of waves, a boat on the top. The boat has serpents curling about each other on its head. Gorgon. The spinning comes to a stop and the image returns to its previous one: a calm, gleaming blue water.

-o-

**Gemma's POV**

Three more performances follow the lion tamer before the intermission. With the acrobats doing the flying trapeze, they showed the outline of a centaur when they link their hands and feet together. There are at least five members, bending their bodies almost impossibly while jumping and tumbling from one swing to another. It is simply spectacular. I find myself at the edge of my seat, never wondering what could the realm images present in the circus show.

The shows before the intermission illustrate all the realms creatures; just the Borderlands however, and not the Winterlands. After the flying trapeze are the clowns playing charades. The kids are trying to guess what the hilarious clowns are gesturing. They got most right, which happens to be some kind of animals or toys. There is only one thing that they did not get. And that is the character of Hajin.

As I am watching the show, I only watched, amazed and speechless at what humans can do to achieve what they want. They reach new heights that I never thought possible. Maybe I am a little jealous because they face their fears to attain what they want.

And what I want, I can never get because it is truly impossible. I remember Felicity said that the magic is me when I thought that she would never be my friend without my magic. But, what if I become normal? Like Miss Nightwing? Would she still accept me for who I am? But not the girl who lost her magic?

I also want to be with Kartik. Which I think would never be since I am likely to perish in the realms fighting the Tree of All Souls. If I am not to die, and I visit him, he will not remember me at all. I will only evoke the memory of some white girl who received a parcel from him. That is all. Nothing more.

The last Borderlands creature is the forest folk. The searing, wild flames of a fire breather capture this image. Then it is intermission. It is time to act.

I look at Felicity, then at Ann. Both of them seem lost in their own thoughts. Or they are just awed by the circus presentations. I cannot tell. I stand up and they turn their heads to look at me. I tell them that I am going to look for any clues in the area and they say they will accompany me.

The circus is a typical one. It is round and outside, opposite of the entrance, is where all the performers prepare themselves for their show. We walk the inside perimeter of the circus and, unfortunately, they are filled with vendors and audience. There are no signs of the realms.

That means that everything is outside. I am sure that we will find Theodore van Ripple past the circus wall with the other performers.

We reach the back and when I silently pull the flap back, I see the performers sitting straight up, looking at the same direction. Maybe they are listening to someone of higher status? The circus owner perhaps?

Felicity is peering in beside my side, and she sees far more things than I can. She gurgles a soft gasp and clamps her hand down on Ann's mouth. Ann's hair prickles and stands on her pale skin and her eyes wide; dilated. She is acting uncanny for someone who is just enjoying the show. What is going on?

Felicity pulls Ann aside and I follow. They are talking in harsh whispers and I want to be involved in their discussion. So I interrupt Felicity's hissing.

"What's going on?" I am confused beyond any means.

"The performers! The-they…They are…" Ann stutters incoherently. I know it is hopeless so I look at Felicity. She is haughty as I am bewildered.

"I knew from the beginning that he is untrustworthy. ' I wanted more information', you say! Did you not see the peculiarity of the audience? Well Gemma, we are some idiotic lot for going through with this. It is just a pure dumb luck that our magic has not been absent. _They_ do not have any means of protection! And those performers! Gosh. Those bloody performers are being put under an evil charm by Mr. van Ripple!"

* * *

A/N: Please Review!

Next on _A Whole New Beginning:_

Gemma, Felicity and Ann go back to Spence Academy. Gemma shows her two friends what she found out about the Tree of All Souls. Also, the realm creatures are starting to invade the school. Would Gemma be able to stop her teachers from rebuilding the East Wing?


	6. Chapter Five

A Whole New Beginning

A/N: I do not own any of the characters seen in the Gemma Doyle Trilogy.

* * *

Chapter Five

Sitting on my chair, and listening to Mademoiselle LeFarge happily dictating the correct way of articulating French just brought me to complete boredom. We are to repeat the French phrases she is saying almost a dozen times since she is never content with our French accents.

"Le nom de mon petit chien est Lassie."

I do not think any one would name their dog Lassie. For one thing, Lassie is a silly name. It is not even French!

There is a gentle tap on my desk and I look up, finding Mademoiselle LeFarge gazing down at me with a gentle frown marring her face.

"No, Gemma. Chien," now she is naming the dog Gemma? How embarrassing. She must have read something on my face and says, "Repeat after me. Chien."

"Shin." I say.

"Non. Non. Chien." She reiterates it again, dragging the first part for emphasis. Now it sounds 'Sheeyen'.

I say it again and she cringes. What am I supposed to do? I am trying the best I can. Somewhere at the back, I hear Cecily and her goons sniggering. They stop however when Felicity snaps at them to pipe down.

"Sheeyen." I say as how I hear it. But Mademoiselle LeFarge shakes her head.

"You almost have it, Gemma. Try it one more time. This time make the first part quick and abrupt. Chien."

She tells me one more time but after I repeated, she makes me say it time after time until it takes us almost a quarter of an hour. She gives up after that, finding no hope for me.

"I can say it, Mademoiselle LeFarge." Cecily boasts. She has her arm raised up, ready to speak.

"Yes. You can, Miss Temple." That is all what Mademoiselle LeFarge replied; she does not give notice to Cecily's raised hand. "Let us try another one, shall we?" she continues.

I sneak a peek at Cecily and I find her pouting. My, what a spoiled child. Then I spot a tiny sprite on her shoulder, whispering to her. I blink. It is still there. It is not the same when I saw a pixie by a horse's foot. However, a similar effect happens. The sprite turns and maliciously smiles at me.

I slump back at my chair before I accidentally cause a scene. I watch Mademoiselle LeFarge continue with her dictation. But I pay no attention. Even if I want to, I cannot will myself to listen.

What is happening to the realms? I turn back again to look at Cecily's shoulder. It is still there, playing with a lock of her hair. I hear it laugh. It is enchanting. Just like the voice of Tree of All Souls and those fairies.

An explosion resonates next to where Ann is sitting. I spin around, my eyes wild and I see ugly looking dwarves tearing a hole on the wall. Then I see a large pack of cement coming to fall on Martha. It is another realm creature pushing against the block of cement. I gasp aloud, my hands flying to my mouth. Everyone looks at me, bewildered.

"Is there a matter, Miss Doyle?" I incline my head to look at the person who addressed me. It is my French teacher.

"Umm…no." I hesitate. "I…I just thought…I mean, I heard a noise and it just startled me." I fabricate an excuse.

Her brows come together softly. She has not heard any noise. No one has. Then she guesses, "It's probably those workers building the East Wing."

I look back at the creature shoving the block of cement. It is going to do it! It's going to ram the cement on Martha! It looks at me for a moment, then laugh maniacally. With one push, the cement is falling.

I leap to my feet, my chair toppling over. I ignore the chair and Mademoiselle LeFarge who is calling me. Then, as fast I as can, I gather the ends of my skirt and head to Martha, tackling her to the floor. At the same time, her table just collapse to fine pieces of wood. We skid on the floor, stopping by Cecily's feet. In place of her desk are just smoke, the cement and wood.

"Gemma, you witch!" Cecily screams.

"That's vulgar, Cecily!" Felicity snaps. "Be thankful to her that she actually saved your crony, despite what you people did to her."

Cecily is taken aback by how Felicity shouted at her. "But…she-she…" she points at me, then seeing that she cannot reason with Felicity, she gives up. She always want to join Felicity's circle of friends, but if she can see that treating me like dirt would take her anywhere, then I advice that she should change her rubbish tactic.

Martha stands up for Cecily, "Then how does Gemma know when to come to my rescue?" She turns to Mademoiselle LeFarge, "I tell you, Mademoiselle. She deliberately planned this ridiculous scheme! Just like how she tripped Cecily during the rehearsal!"

"Martha," Felicity smiles, but her eyes are ice cold. "Why would she even bother saving you when you would treat her this way? What merit would she get from harming you, _then_ salvaging you out of the harm's way?"

"Why don't you tell me, huh Fee?" Martha taunts.

Cecily is looking at her friend, horror painted on her face. I am also perplexed as to why Martha is goading at the only person they wanted to be friendly with.

"Enough, ladies." Mademoiselle LeFarge intercedes. "Let us call Miss Nightwing and inform her of the news."

-o-

We are inside Felicity's tent, eating chocolates. I would like to eat more than I should, but I am afraid that my corset would not fit me if I devour a couple of boxes of chocolates.

"Tonight, I suggest that we go to the cave." Felicity examines her hands. Ann nods vigorously, agreeing with her. I have no choice. And since they can go to the realms using the East Wing without me, I had better go too for supervision. Pippa would be there, and no doubt, that she might persuade Felicity and turn her against us. Love can go to untimely limits.

I have never really thought of Felicity as a Sapphist. She is too beautiful and dainty to be one. Nevertheless, recalling how she brought down an enemy with one sweep of her arrow proves just how strong and fierce she is.

"Bring whatever you found out, Gemma." Felicity says. "We also have to decide what to make out with that illusionist. We already know that he is a con man, and he made a haven for Wilhelmina. Do you think he is using her?"

We have great deal of clues and riddles to decipher. I thought I am getting close to finding out the truth after I went to the Key. Unfortunately, we maintained on getting further more clues that we do not know what to do with them. Some of them do not match anymore. What does van Ripple have to do with the realms?

We ignore the topic for now, saving it for later in the cave. We turn from a somber subject to an amusing one; chatting happily, exchanging few laughs with our stories during the short break we had.

Later that night, when everyone is asleep, I open my eyes to find Ann and Felicity hovering over me. They are grinning enthusiastically down at me, impatient to go to the cave, then to the East Wing. I give a silent sigh and reluctantly get out of my bed. If they see my reluctance, they pay no heed to it.

We have a candle light up in the cave. We have not been here for a long time now. Almost a year, in fact. There are a lot of memories that I remember the first time I set a foot inside again. I remember my necklace that my mother gave me, the one with a crescent eye and how we were discussing it with Miss Moore. She was my favourite teacher, that is, until I found out that she is Circe. This is also the place where we first went to the realms.

"So Gemma, dear. What have you found out?" Felicity breaks my train of thoughts, as how Americans would say it.

I produce the tattered notebook I have acquired from Sister Wickerton. They scan it briefly then Felicity gives me an irritated look. I know what she is thinking and that is we already know everything that is written in the notebook.

Then I show them the piece of paper from Wilhelmina's book. The part about the Tree of All Souls. It reads:

_**The Tree of All Souls**_

_The Tree of All Souls, located in the centre of the Winterlands, is the main source of power – along with the runes – that belongs to all the Order and Rakshana when they claimed the power for themselves. Once the Order sealed the power in the runes, half of the power involuntary sealed itself to the Tree of All Souls, maintaining the equilibrium of two lands: the Borderlands and Winterlands. Equilibrium in all the realms must always be fulfilled; else chaos would rise, destroying all realms – harmony is breached._

_Equilibrium is the only sense of peace that would cause the realms and its creatures to live in serenity. Without good, there is no evil. Since the Order and Rakshana, being lovers that they are, also give the realms sense of equality and not only because of their gender; thus if a member of the Order has turned against the rest, a member of Rakshana must do the same. And if either the tree or the runes exceed one or the other in power, the Order or the Rakshana must bestow power to the lesser one. Equilibrium must always be present._

_The runes, since it is not living, it needs not to be tended. The Tree of All Souls is quite the opposite. In order to prolong its life, it must be fed souls. A sacrificed soul, just one soul unwilling to be used, would cause a filthy, vile corruption in the tree. However, if the soul is a willing sacrifice, all would be in its correct order._

_Note: It had always been said that the Order is significantly attached to the Tree of All Souls, while the Rakshana, with the runes. They persevere the equilibrium of the power between the two sources._

There is an abundance of information from this piece. For one thing, we did not know that the realms must have equal power in each of its corner. Another is that we did not know just how much the Rakshana and the Order portrayed in this whole magnificent play. Now that the Rakshana has turned against the order, there is no equilibrium. Or is there? Hitherto, both Rakshana and the Order are in this land, meaning that there is no exceeding entity in the realm, thus the equilibrium is still being uphold. But not for long, the Tree of All Souls is devouring all the hapless souls.

"We must go to the realms." I stand up, taking the candle with me. Felicity, seeing my determined expression, stands up as well. Her expression as grim as mine.

We are walking in the woods, being discreet as we can. We might disturb the workers and the gypsies. There are already plenty of suspicions between the two lots; we do not want to add up to their problems if we ever do something accidentally drastic or we do not ever want to be their suspect once they find out that we are walking outside during nighttime.

We are following the grassless path to school; both sides of the trail covered with trees. No one is talking and our breathing is controlled. I see a flash of light. Just a dim one. I turn my head quickly to follow it. Then it is gone.

"What is it Gemma?" Ann asks in a hushed whisper.

I shake my head. Nothing. There is nothing in sight. Except for the trees and the three of us. I look around, spying anything that seems suspicious behind the trees.

"Gemma." I turn to Felicity. She turns back to me.

"What?" She says.

"Did you not call me?" She says no. I look at Ann. The same answer from her. Maybe it is just my imagination. I shrug it off then continue ahead.

"_Gemma_." I hear again. This time the sound is coming from behind me. The only person who is walking after me is Felicity.

I whip around, ready to tell her to quit joking around when I am already scared as it is, when I hear the cawing of the crows. I look up and so many of them are flying overhead. I search for the location they are coming from when my sight lands on the school's rooftop. The gargoyles' eyes flash red and their wings beat in unison, creating a thunderous sound. I look wildly around me, and behind Ann, I see a pixie.

Ann and Felicity are now looking at me, frightened. They can go to the realms by their own, yes. Yet, they still do not have the power to see what I can. Ann tilts her head on one side in confusion and the pixie takes the chance and grips Ann's shoulder and head, her mouth filled with fangs dripping with venom. It is going to bite Ann!

I take Felicity's and Ann's wrists, running as fast as I can. They are running with me, now, telling me to stop. They are still confused by my odd behaviour but this is not the time to explain it to them. The crows circling overhead follow us, flying lower and lower until I feel their beaks pecking at my face and arms.

I drop my friends' hands, mine flail helplessly above my head as push away the unwanted birds. I am already shrieking as the crows continue with their attack. I want to run away, but I am trapped in the middle of the black birds. I thrash around wildly and blindly, my eyes closing tightly.

If this is how the crows work, I wonder how much damage one gargoyle could do. I am running around the place, my chest already throbbing with exhaustion, my heart pounding outrageously in my chest. My breath is already ragged, but I still need to escape this flock of birds. My arms hurt from their continuous pecking and I think I already sprained an ankle.

I hear tearing sounds of my nightgown as the birds continue their assault. I do not hear my cries anymore and I am blind and deaf to everything, to my cries, to their caw, to the sound of my friends' voices. I can only act on my instinct, not thinking about any consequences and my only goal is to keep myself away from harm.

Then, with one big sweep of the wind, drowning all my cries, I open my tightly closed eyes to see a clawed foot. That is all. Just a huge wind striking my way then all is silent.

I drop to the ground. My chest heaving. I look around and I see that everything is the way in which they were before. I search for Ann and Felicity, and I see that worry is etched all over their faces. But they are fine. How can that be? I look down on myself; my gown is pristine except for the grass stain on my back, my arms do not have red swellings from the crows.

What is happening?

I heave myself up, wiping my hands on my sleeping apparel, then rubbing them together. I look up; there are no crows in sight. I look at Ann's shoulder; the pixie has gone missing. I look at the roof of the school; the gargoyles are back into position.

_Beware of the birth of May._ The wind whispers in my ear.

Hair prickles on my skin. I hold my breath, anticipating for more. I stand stiff, frozen on my spot. I spy Felicity and Ann watching me closely, intensely, horror written on their faces.

I try walking a step towards them, but to no avail. I am cold, clammy with sweat. I try again once more, yet failed miserable. I swallow a huge lump in my throat and I blink my eyes rapidly. My heart starts pounding again. Wildly as before. I can hear it and I am sure my two companions can as well. It is like horses trampling against my chest, taking no chance to fail a race. They would not stop and my breathing…! I cannot control my breathing! It grows more and more labour by the second. I am anxious and dreadfully frightened. Everything is gone, the crows, the gargoyles, the pixies! Why do I react this way when it was only a wind?

I take a full gulp of air, calming myself. Somehow, it works. I take on my surrounding once again, and, like last time, nothing is askew. Everything is quiet and undisturbed. I only hope that I can say the same for what I am feeling.

From where I am standing, I can see the golden rose colour of the sky looming low over the trees. Dawn is coming!

I whip my head to Felicity and Ann, then seeing my horrid expression; they look at the horizon and realize what I just had. Swiftly, we take hold of our nightgown and run back to school.

We avoided the sleeping workers and the gypsies. Taking a hold of the rope that dangles from my window, we climb up to our room and burst inside. Felicity continues to run silently to her own chamber.

We made it just in time Brigid knocks on our door, waking us up for a warm, hearty breakfast.

As we are eating, Miss Nightwing sitting at the end of the long table, Miss McCleethy beside her, a girl –perhaps no more than eight years of age – takes a hold of Brigid's skirt. She is serving us mash potato and tomato soup, a bland match for an early breakfast. I take my own spoon, pondering about the night's incident when the girl's innocent question breaks my thoughts.

"Brigid…Tomorrow, can you show us what pixie food looks like?" In the corner of my eye, I see Miss McCleethy stiffen and Miss Nightwing worriedly look at her.

"Deary…I cannot say I know what pixies eat."

"Oh! She said it is wonderfully delicious. Just a couple of berries and – "

"You saw a pixie, Clara?" Miss Nightwing intercedes.

"Yes!" Clara delightfully answers. "I saw her standing on the gargoyle's head!"

* * *

A/N: Please Review!

Next on _A Whole New Beginning:_

The realm creatures start invading the school. Miss McCleethy still resists believing Gemma about the truth of Miss Spence and the realms. How will Gemma convince her teacher and stop the Winterlands creatures from attacking?

Stay Tuned!


	7. Chapter Six

A Whole New Beginning

A/N: I do not own any of the characters seen in the Gemma Doyle Trilogy.

* * *

Chapter Six

I open the door to Miss Nightwing's office when she replied to my knock. On the other side, I see Miss McCleethy pacing back and forth while Miss Nightwing has her arms crossed on the table. The fire in the hearth is burning sensuously, crackling every now and then.

"Yes, Miss Doyle?" Miss Nightwing addresses me. I look at her, then I switch my gaze to Miss McCleethy, before going back to the school's headmistress.

"I would like to have a word with Miss McCleethy, please." I say politely. Then I add, "Alone."

"Gemma, if you would like to talk to her about the realms and the Order, you may do so in my presence."

"She was part of the member, Miss Doyle." Miss McCleethy sighs without patience.

"Yes, I know." Both teachers look at me, intrigued and surprised by this bit of knowledge I have. I stand there, waiting patiently, watching them both until they get over their shocks.

Miss McCleethy clears her throat. "How?" She drags the question, her eyes squinting at me with suspicion.

I open my mouth to answer when Brigid knocks on the door and says that we have a visitor.

Imagine my surprise when I see both van Ripple and Fowlson march inside the room, their expressions grim. I guess seeing me in the room has been much of a surprise as when I saw them. I always thought that this head office is spacey, but with two men inside the room, taking up space, the office got a tad bit smaller.

Fowlson quickly turn to Miss McCleethy. "Sahira," he greets.

The Rakshana. What reasons, or excuse for that matter, have they come for? What businesses have they to attend? I stare at them, my brows slightly drawn together. van Ripple is still looking at me. Perchance he cannot believe that the girl showed interest in Wilhelmina attend this prestigious school. My eyes keep straying back and forth to the newcomers, my back tense as a wild jungle cat.

"Miss Nightwing." I snap, slicing the intense silence between the Order and the Rakshana. "I've only come to say that you have to cease rebuilding the East Wing." I turn around, ready to leave the room, yet Miss Nightwing's aghast gasp halt me to place.

"What an impertinent child! You, Gemma, are in no position, whatsoever, to order and demand." Miss Nightwing is silent, brooding and, in her place, Miss McCleethy chides.

Something inside of me snaps. It could have been from the sleepless night, or the two Rakshana members standing like guards inside. Or it could have been just Miss McCleethy being a banshee that she usually is. Whatever it is, it just pulled my patience taut, slow, hard, and strong, until it snaps into two.

"Miss McCleethy, I do not know for whatever reason why you are associating yourself with these two hooligans, but I know that opening the East Wing will endanger everyone's lives. That little girl saw a pixie! Where do you suppose it came from?" I have a feeling that I do not want to stop my tirade, even with McCleethy's chagrined face. And I am not going to. "That pixie…it could have bitten her, killed her! Offer her as a sacrifice!" Now all adults stare at me.

"That gypsy boy, Ithal! And one of the workers…what was his name?" I mumble the last part. "Never mind. The point is, those two innocent humans, who have no idea that the realms exist, have been sacrificed! And by what, you ask? Those Winterlands creatures! How? Through the East Wing, that is how!" I am already panting from continuing my tirade.

"But…that-that is insanity!" Miss Nightwing provides.

I look at her, contemplating her reaction. I respond, "More insane than that of the theory having the workers and gypsies eradicating each other?" It is cruel, but I cannot help myself. I must make this point. I have to make them realize that all this is real. That, whether they accept this or not, they cannot escape this dire reality.

"Enough, Miss Doyle. I believe that we shall talk later." I am dismissed, but I know that I have gotten past their barriers.

-o-

It is late afternoon; Felicity, Ann, and I are strolling peacefully in the gardens, exchanging playful insults every now and then. We come across by the stream, a wooden shelter on the opposite land. Kartik used to loiter around that area, and I always was anticipating to see him sitting down, polishing his rickety cricket bat. Now, I do not have anything to look forward to.

We near the wooden boat, buoyant on the stream. On it, I see fairies taunting the little dwarves. The short creatures are waving their mining tools; threatening the fairies. I never knew dwarves are from the realm. I've not seen one before. Behind us, young children are playing around, laughing, and shrieking. They scurry before us when one slips and fell on the boat.

I hurry after her. To my amazement, the boat floats away, the fairies giggle behind their hands, standing on their toes on top of water lilies. I am horrified. Apparently, Ann and Felicity see the accident and run after the boat. I chase it with them. But to my utter horror, the dwarves start to pound on the wooden boat with those little tools.

The girl is shrieking for help, terrified. Tears already stream down her chubby cheeks. Her friends run away to get some help, or so I thought when I hear them laughing at the situation. No doubt, the fairies are to blame.

She cries. I see water leaking inside. Any moment now, the boat will sink, dragging the girl beneath the stream.

Ann stops running. Fatigue has already taken its toll on her. Instead of chasing, she turns to the other girls and marches. I do not see the rest. My breathing grows labour when I see the boat is heading outside the school territory, half way in the water. I jump in the water and clumsily swim after the girl.

"Jump!" I shout.

The girl shakes her head. More tears come.

"Trust me." She hesitates.

I give it one more chance. "Please," I add. I see her determination, then. She steps off the sinking boat to the waiting cool water.

She flounders crazily. I kick harder, my hand reaching out to one of her arms. Once I have a tight grip on her hands, I half swim and half drag myself to the shore, my other arm parts the water. She calms down, but her hiccups continue, sometimes coughing out the water she inhaled.

Felicity meets with us. She takes off her cape and wraps it around the girl. I've had enough. I must speak to Miss Nightwing regarding this matter once and for all.

-o-

I am about to step inside the office with a grim determination on my face, when I hear Mr. van Ripple's voice coming from the other side of the door. I do not know what they are talking about and it does not have any connection with the realms or the East Wing. I have assumed that whenever the Order and the Rakshana met each other, there is only one thing they are concerned about. Though, this proves me wrong.

"One hour before sundown!" van Ripple exclaims.

One hour for what? For the gypsies to leave? For dinner? For the sky to blend with pink and blue? For what?

"I cannot believe you would remember such thing. She is dead, Ripple. You cannot bring her back." There is a terse silence.

"Maybe not." Pause. It is soft. So soft that I have to strain to hear it. Then, with more enthusiastic voice, he say, "You know how she likes to be keen on small details."

She? Whom are they talking? I decide to investigate further. I lay my head on the door, pressing my ear harder on it.

"Yes. I remember. However, Eugenia needed not inform us that her coming to life is in exactly one hour before sundown."

Eugenia! They are talking about Eugenia Spence. I creep silently down the hall... _coming to life is in exactly one hour before sundown_.What does that mean? I go up to my room, my footsteps as quiet as a mouse. I drag my feet until I reached my desk and I pick up the book. I flip it open to the first page. The list. I study it, paying more attention than I have before.

_Eugenia Spence: May 6, 1812 – June 21, 1871_

I look closely at the date. Where have I seen it before? My eyes scrutinize the writing, as I search for any clues in my mind. The date looks so familiar.

Suddenly, like horses running before me, I see flashbacks. They are amazingly fast that I have a hard time deciphering what they mean. They fly right before my eyes, each picture…memories hit me hard. Then I see myself. I am at the graveyard. Her graveyard. Eugenia's. I remember being shown this particular site by Wilhelmina. I remember the absolute pain coursing through my scalp when she dragged my by my hair. Back then, I did not know what the vision means.

Now, looking at the page before me, I scan everything. Every numbers and dates. All the names and months and years. Eugenia. She is the only one born in May.

I gasp.

A revelation! Why have not I thought of it before? _Beware of the birth of May…_ _She deceived us all._ Like millions of puzzle pieces, it all comes together, matching one piece to another until they all fit together, perfectly. All those millions of unsolved pieces. Fitting together.

I suddenly recall Mr. van Ripple's voice. _One hour before sundown_.

Snapping the book close, I spin on my toes; running like I have not ran before. Without stopping, I burst open the door and all the inhabitants on the other side are startled.

"Miss Doyle!" I ignore Miss McCleethy's reprimanding voice.

"Come, hurry!" I gasp. I turn, not waiting for them. I gather my skirt in my hands, picking up my pace down the staircase.

One hour. I must hurry.

I hear footsteps behind me. I hear the frantic voices. I hear my breath, my desperate need for air.

"Miss Doyle. Will you please explain what the matter is?" Miss McCleethy snaps.

"I do not have time. I shall be brief." I face them, jumping on my feet as I cannot keep my adrenaline from seeping out. I hear voices in my head, telling my not to delay any further. But I keep them out. I focus on the audience before me. Both Rakshana and the Order.

"I've been in realms." I see their horrified look. I recall telling Miss McCleethy that I was not able to. She may have realized by now that I used the entrance in the East Wing. "I saw the Tree of All Souls." I pause. Giving them time to think about all these information I am about to offer. "Miss Spence…she…she is inside the Tree of All Souls. She is causing all these disturbances. She is ordering for sacrifices. She needs more power to rule all worlds. Both the realms and the living world."

"Miss Doyle! Eugenia was the most respectable priestess –" I cut Miss McCleethy.

"Wilhelmina was trying to tell you the truth. She saw the darkness. She saw her live in the tree. Using the tree. You believed her when she said to build the East Wing. Why did you not believe her when she said that _she_ has deceived us all?" I say, stressing on 'she' when I referred to Miss Spence.

What I got is silence. Miss McCleethy once again opens her mouth, but Miss Nightwing beats her to it. "Perhaps, we take this chance, Sahira." her voice, calm.

I let them stand there, pondering. I peer at Mr. van Ripple; try to stare down at him regardless of his height. I ask, "What have you done to the audience?"

He bows his head in shame. I stiffen. I pale. I mourn. Gosh…so much innocent lives are lost. That whole number of people inside the circus. They were all sacrifices.

"Why?" I choke.

He shakes his head. "Why now?" he whispers back to me.

"Simple. It is her coming to life." I throw the words he used earlier at him. I cannot help it. I am livid beyond any explanation.

With that being my last word to them, I twirl around, marching outside to the gypsy camp. I pray that they have not left.

I sprint to the camp. The wind slapping my face, the trees pass by, blurry. I come to the camp, the gypsies looking at me, warning in their eyes. I look around. I see no sign of Mother Elena.

"Mother Elena." I breathe. "Mother Elena, where is she?" Hoping that they have not seen the panic written on my face, I slowly approach one of the women.

"Here, child." She opens the flap of one the tents. Only taking one look at my disheveled appearnace and she knows the reason I why have come. Giving me a silent nod, she goes back inside the tent, taking out a few containers of chicken blood.

When I open the door to Spence, Felicity and Ann approach me; concern, and fright written on their faces. Fifteen minutes has already gone by. We are short on time. I see Miss Nightwing whispering to Brigid, probably explaining to her what I intend to do. Brigid comes closer to us, offering a hand to Mother Elena. She takes it.

I walk over to the area where Felicity puts up her tent. To my surprise and relief, every student in Spence is already gathered together. Plastering a fake smile on my face, I sneak a look at Miss Nightwing and she sees it. She nods, giving me permission.

"Listen, everyone. We are playing a game."

"And you think we want to join?" Cecily sneers.

"Yes." Felicity and Miss Nightwing answer her simultaneously. She turns her head, trying to hide the embarrassment creeping up her face.

"It is going to be this simple. If you see anything unusual, run to all the adults, understand?" I say, my voice childish. It is sounds stupid, but from the looks I have been given, it seems that not only me who has find this game extremely foolish.

"The only unusual thing I see is you, Gemma." Martha mocks. She and her crew laugh.

I frown, but I let it go. Let us see who is laughing when you see a gargoyle, I thought and I snicker silently.

While I give the rest of the kids the order, Mother Elena, Ann, Felicity, and the rest of the adults, with the exception of Miss Nighwing who is helping me come up with the game, start painting the room with chicken blood.

"It is part of the game." Miss Nightwing offers when Cecily asked why we are painting the room. Her face scrunches up in disgust. I can sympathize, but she would not understand the reason behind this. I believe Ann and Felicity are slobbering the blood on the door of the East Wing.

Fifteen minutes.

We finish painting the room and the door of the East Wing. Now, we are just waiting. Patiently. Silently. Attentively. Calmly.

I watch the children play in their boredom. I see Cecily and her party chat, sharing the town's gossip while munching on their snack. By the corner, Miss McCleethy and Mr. Fowlson are talking civilly. In the other corner of the room, some children watch the magic show Mr. van Ripple is presenting them beguilingly. Brigid is tending to other children, telling them fairy tales. Miss Nighwing is standing beside me, sipping her tea quietly.

I decide to talk to her to calm my jittering nerves. "Why are Mr. Fowlson and Mr. van Ripple here?"

"Out of all the Rakshana, they are the closest ones to us, the Order, before they began the opposition. Mr. Folwson and Mr. van Ripple are simple visiting since today is Eugenia's birthday."

Five minutes.

I take a deep breath. I look around. Everyone is truly happy. They are serene. But in five minutes, it will be all over. The happiness, the naïveté. All of these that I am taking all in now.

I gasp, catching Miss Nightwing's attention. I turn to her, panic on my face. "No matter what happens, do not open these doors. When I call out, let me in. Please," I ask her. Before she takes the time to ask any question, I head out the door, walking in a normal pace.

Three minutes.

As soon as I reach the hallway, I dash to my room. I burst the door open, taking no chance and tearing the room apart in search of the two most important items in my life.

Two minutes.

All things are in the back of my mind. There is only one thing that I am in dire need of. Speed. That is all. Just speed.

I run, my chest heaving, my throat in pain. I clutch the items, gripping them to myself; protecting them. I need to take the corset off. My eyes start to sting. I weave my way through the school, taking all the shortest paths back to the room. Too many corners to turn to, too many stairs to go down, I need to make it. I am growing tired. But I must get back!

One minute.

The door! It is just within my line of sight. I hurry further, clawing at my gown. The door is coming closer to me now. Getting bigger and bigger until it fills my vision. The windows and the walls are blurry as I past them. I can hear my heart thudding in my chest. It fills my ears. I cannot hear my footsteps and my breathing. Just my racing heart. Two more steps. My hand closes on the knob.

The clock chimes.

I explode inside the room, getting all the attention. The door bangs on the wall, and I swiftly reach for it, closing it forcefully. I lean my back on the door, gasping.

"What is the matter with you, Gemma. Don't take this game so seriously!" Another blow from Cecily.

My eyes are searching, wild. I see confusion, terror, concern. Behind me, the door pulses. It is light and silent. Like a butterfly's touch. But I feel it. Endless numbers of crows is staining the windows. The gathering is fast. The need to overcome is gaining speed. Inside, the students, teachers, guests, still do not have any idea that it already has started.

The pounding grows heavier. It is steady, but it can be heard, can be seen. I lean harder. Snapping back to present, I shout "Help me close this!"

Ann and Felicity are beside me at once, pushing against the door. Those students who do not know what is going on just stared at us, confusion written on all of their faces.

The windows rattle. They look up. The crows are rapping on the windows, forcing it to open. The crows! Once the windows are opened, they will swarm inside and change to their real forms! But…but the windows have not been locked. There are no blood paint on it too.

The children are getting scared. They run behind the adults, clinging to their legs. Some start crying and the others are getting more restless. Cecily and her friends, they are with Miss McCleethy, blaming all this on me. Telling me that I cause all this.

It is the truth. If I have listened to the warning in the first place, not to pay attention to those visions, I would not jeopardize my schoolmates and teachers. Now, they are all cowering, the teachers are putting on brave faces when I know that they are as frightened as we are.

All of a sudden, the wind sweeps through the crowd of crows. It is quiet except for the door. One by one, I see the gargoyle landing and guarding the panes. My companions look up and, for once, they believe there are gargoyles.

"Mother of heaven." Brigid sighs.

Just then, bright light appears around the door. The pounding ceases. Surprising us all, the angel on top of the dining room with the gargoyles passes through the door. It…she is majestic. Truly majestic. She gives off an ethereal glow; her beauty, extravagant. And for that one simple second, I am filled with hope.

Giving her a determined look, I glance at Felicity and Ann. I announce, "I am going to the East Wing."

Astonished at my decision, they stand on their spot, rooted on their place and do not stop my hand from opening the door.

The hallway, it is empty. Quiet. Bewildered, I look back at the angel. She simply nods her head.

And I take a step forward.

-o-

I walk along the hallway, my arms down at my side, swaying with every hesitant step I take. It is clear, bright, and quiet. No deep shadows in sight. No lurking creatures are seen. But the silence is eerie. It is sharp as it cuts through every breath, every thoughts, every single heartbeat. It is deafening.

My eyes are wary, darting to every corner. I walk slow, contrasting the fast thudding of my heart. I look back; the door is closed. No one is following me; no one intends to help me. I guess every friendship has its own boundary. Mine is power. For usage, for luxury. However, when it comes to this…I am alone.

I face the front, disappointed. I take another step forward. And another. And another. Slower and slower. Suddenly, a tap. The tap grows into a thud, its rhythm matching the beating of my heart.

I stop walking, listening intently to the sound. A creak sounds from behind, then a shrill scream.

I look back, startled. I see Felicity, horror written on her beautiful features. She shouts, "Gemma! Behind you!" She runs towards me, Ann running after her. I spin around and watch the face slowly grin menacingly.

"Hello, poppet."

Its arms go around me, but I duck. I hear a scream, but I do not know whose. I close my eyes tightly shut, my hands dropping to the ground, giving me some kind of support. I try to crawl away. I almost succeed except when it grips my right ankle. I wiggle, and kick with my other foot. I grapple to no avail. The poppy warrior is laughing maniacally, its eyes bleed red.

A wind wheeze past me and a hand seize my upper arm until it bruise. The grip is strong, pulling me to my feet. I do not know what is happening; all these images appear blurry as soon as I open my eyes. Colours blend; figures and voices are all muddled.

I am squirming wildly; my arms flail, my feet kick and my head keeps shaking.

"Gemma!" I stop. I stand statuesquely. My vision coming into place as I stare back into Miss McCleethy's eyes. Her eyes as fiery and anxious as my own. She says one word that sends chills down my spine. That robs me of my breath. "Run."

I do what she says, Ann and Felicity beside me, Miss McCleethy behind me and Fowlson and van Ripple beside her. We run to the East Wing, fighting our way through the fog of crows.

They caw, the warriors chuckle tauntingly behind us, knowing that we would not make it. The crows slow us down, blinding our way to the East Wing. They peck on my skin until it throbs and singes as if I'd been burned.

Mr. van Ripple mutters something incoherent. I keep on running, ignoring what he just said. Apparently, curiosity takes over me. I look back, and I see that the warriors stop chasing after us. They are now hurtling themselves into a thin air.

What are they doing? I wonder. Then it dawns on me. Mr. van Ripple is an illusionist; he is a chosen Rakshana. He did something mysterious to make the warriors believe that there is a wall before them.

However, there are more. Numerous crows turn back to being a warrior and others continue to flutter their wings, scratching us with them.

I run, my lungs are burning, but I must move forward, to the East Wing. It is the only way. There is no other. We reach the last staircase and we are exhausted. We cannot slow down; we must put a stop to those creatures trespassing their way to our world.

Just a few more steps, the door is just in sight. Ann trips. We all stop to run and I do not think when I run back to help her. I shout at the others, "Go! We'll catch up!" They heed my order.

Before I reach Ann, there is already a Poppy Warrior looming over her. She looks up, seeing the shadow covering her. Her eyes widened, her arms shielding her face. She opens her mouth to scream but no sound comes out. I run faster, my hand impulsively coming to my boot.

It is pure instinct. When the Poppy Warrior lifts its arm, I see an entry. I grip the Megh Sambara tightly and as fast as I thought not possible for me to do, the dagger whooshes from my boot to its abdomen. I wince at its scream and the liquid pouring out of the body. It is not blood, but instead, a white almost transparent and thick comes out of view. It tries to pry off my dagger, but I just pushed harder; my face scrunching in concentration and the dagger reaches to far, deep places inside it.

Before I see how much damage I've inflicted to the Poppy Warrior, one of my hand let the dagger go and I clutch Ann's sleeve and pull her upright. I pull out the dagger, the warrior folding himself. Taking the chance, I push Ann and we run after the others. Only after we take few more steps, there are more black birds and warriors coming after us.

I see Felicity holding the door with one hand, the other reaches for us. The others, I assume are already inside the room. "Hurry! Gemma, Hurry! Ann!" Felicity calls.

With each step I take, the door fills my vision. It is open. It is haven. It grows bigger; Felicity's voice is just a distant consciousness. Ann is behind me, already wheezing. My hand has not let go of hers yet. I drag her, and, with all my strength, shove her inside just as a warrior's hand closes in on us.

I dive in after her, dropping to my knees when we reach the dark, uncanny room. Felicity heavily leans on the door, barking orders at us. "The door, Gemma! Open the door!"

I tuck the dagger back in my boot before climbing up to my feet. I have to summon the light, with our hands link together. But how can we link when a couple of us are preventing the Poppy Warriors from entering? No matter. If the chance where I have to risk it all arises, then I shall risk it all. All my power. All my energy. My life.

"Quick! Gather around here. Hold my hands!" I order. Felicity's eyes flash with hesitation. She is still leaning as Ann pushes the door.

"But…Gemma – "

"Hurry!"

Miss McCleethy is already holding my hand, the other two Rakshana members stand beside Miss McCleethy, their hands all linked.

The door pound impatiently. Ann and Felicity cannot decide what to do. They know the danger once they let go of the door. Harder and harder, the Poppy Warriors try to knock down the door. I hear scratching from the other side as well. The crows might be trying to peel off the wood. A moment has passed. Another beat. Another pound.

"Now! Felicity, hurry! Ann!" They need not to be told twice. They run towards me, their hands gripping mine.

I close my eyes, feeling the anxiety radiating off my companions. All my senses sharpen. I hear Ann's quick breathing. I can taste the fright coming from everyone. I can feel the heat of my blood coursing in my veins.

I imagine the door. The light. The surreal feeling whenever I go to the realms. The rays of light dancing behind the door so intricately designed. I concentrate for the door to appear. I hear everyone's heartbeat. I feel everyone's pulses leap.

"Gemma, please. Hurry!" Ann's voice shakes.

There. The light. It is faint. Ever so faint. The glow, it is warm. Then it swells, spreading light in the dark nothingness. The door appears. Foggy at first, then clear. As clear as the hour after the last raindrop falls.

"Gemma!" Felicity and Ann, in unison, scream.

The door burst open. The exceptionally long claws of the warriors closes in on thin air as the intense bright light overwhelms us. We have arrived.

* * *

A/N: Please Review!

Next on _A Whole New Beginning:_

Gemma and her companions arrive at the realms. They see ruins. Everywhere. The sky bleed red and the Winterlands creatures tear down everything on its path. Can there be equilibrium in the shattered dream world?


	8. Chapter Seven

A Whole New Beginning

A/N: I do not own any of the characters seen in the Gemma Doyle Trilogy.

"Destiny is no matter of chance. It is a matter of choice. It is not a thing to be waited for, it is a thing to be achieved." - William Jennings Bryan (1860 - 1925)

* * *

Chapter Seven

The door to the realms towers above us. The noise from Spence Academy has disappeared. Impenetrable darkness. Silence fills the thick air hanging over us. I waste no time and open the door. Instead of the usual brightness greeting us, as what I have anticipated, the fog, crimson and vile, suspends on all realms, darkening the cheerful atmosphere.

My breath hitches. Dismay shows on all of my companions faces. Perhaps it is plastered on my face as well.

"It changed so much," Miss McCleethy breathes. Her eyes glazes. Fowlson moves to her side, wrapping one arm around her shoulder. I look away. I feel this odd sensation settling on the pit of my stomach. I cannot describe the feeling. Their moment, Miss McCleethy and Fowlson's, is too private and comforting as to what I am feeling now.

"Come." I declare. I lead them through the gardens until we reach the stream. Gorgon is there, waiting.

"Most High," she greets. I curtsy. I hear Felicity look for Pippa.

"What news, Gorgon?"

"It has started. The Tree of All Souls grows bigger. It consumed far too many sacrifices." I nod, taking the news, comprehending it.

"Gemma, what of Pippa? She has to be certainly around here."

"Felicity…" How would she react if she finds out that her friend, the person she loves the most, turned out to be a member of the Winterlands creature? What would she say if Pippa turns against us? What would she do? There are certainly choices to make. Some are unavoidable. Will she refuse the one thing her friend loves? Or will she give it?

"I think it is best if we continue forward. We can always look for her sometime later." I tell her softly. My eyes cannot look at hers; afraid of what will she read. I can feel her gaze, it is hot like a scorching metal, until it slowly pierces through and I tell her the truth. But I resist.

"But, Gemma…we are going to a fight. What if she is harmed? Laying somewhere there, helpless? What if -" I cut her off.

"Felicity. Listen to yourself! Those are just what ifs! If you want them, I'll certainly give you one. What if we do not make it and we die? What would happen to her if she is still living?" I retort. Her anger is now radiating.

"You are so utterly selfish, Gemma! You only look after yourself! You want the power. You solely want the power all to yourself!" Livid, she lashes out at me. I cannot say whether or not that is the truth. Perhaps I had some feelings before. But now? I cannot tell.

I turn my back to her, facing Gorgon. "Come." I order. "Gorgon, please take us to the Winterlands." My voice, full of ice, still wavers.

Felicity does not say much after that. We climb up to Gorgon as she steers to the Winterlands. I take on the captain position, right beside the head full of slithering serpents.

I still need Gorgon, Asha, Neela, the centaurs, the forest folks and other Borderlands creatures to help us in an alliance. Only I have the power; the rest, they will be fighting with their own brains and brawns, their fists and mundane tools.

As we near the Winterlands, the sky reddens. The blood of all sacrifices stains the purity of the sky. The imbalance of power tarnishes the desire of all these creatures, making them green with greed and selfishness.

The forest drifts slowly into view. It is aflame. The Winterlands creatures cackle and drunkenly chase the forest folks like mad pyromaniacs, waving torches everywhere I look. The fire is wild, growing taller and wider as it consumes everything in its path. The creatures scream frantically, running around the place, escaping from the ravenous fire.

"Gorgon, stop! Let's save them!" I shout, although the catastrophe drowned out my voice. I feel the ship come to a slower pace, and eventually it stops.

We save Asha and a few untouchables, the forest folks, Philon, along with Neela and other shape-shifters. The forest ablaze, the gardens lost its flowers, smoking and foggy; the water murky with dirt, blood and smoke. There are several centaurs that come up to the boat. We have to stop more than a couple of times since all these creatures are all scattered in the Borderlands. It is appalling. Chaos storms in the beautiful and magnificent place, disordering the natural way of life. It is pitiful. Truly saddening.

"Gemma!" Ann calls from behind. I turn to her from the front of the boat. It is packed now, with the centaurs, shape-shifters and hajins coming with us. It is late, but we have come to some form of alliance.

"Felicity! She is nowhere in sight!" She reports to me. Surprised, I scan the passengers of the boat. There are too much, but not enough to be able to defeat the Tree of All Souls and the Winterlands creatures. I stray my eyes further, looking for her distinguishable golden hair. No golden hair in sight. She has gone to look for Pippa.

"Inform the others, Ann. Tell Miss McCleethy," She is anxiously waiting for me to reply. "Make a quick stop, Gorgon. Do not wait for us." I say, watching Ann's retreating back.

The boat gradually ceases its moving, and Mr. van Ripple approaches me, his cape swaying with the blow of hot wind. "I will search for her." He says with such authority that it surprised me. "You go on ahead. They need you more. You will lead them to success."

I want to hesitate, to tell him that Felicity is my friend. That I know her more and that she matters to me more than she does to him. But his face. Seeing his face…so lonely, desperate. Yet it holds determination. More determined than supervising a spectacle. I knew that he desperately wants to go to the realms, along with other Rakshana. What I did not know, though, is how much this means to them. Or, perhaps he is the only one who is behaving this way. Perhaps there is something more behind the con illusionist that I did not get the chance to read.

-o-

**Felicity's POV**

I am angry. Livid! I cannot believe Gemma would easily disregard Pippa's well-being. Perhaps she is jealous, or mad even. Gemma says Pippa chose to live in the realms. I do not believe that reason, whatsoever. Pippa does not want to be away with me, does she? She returns my feelings, does she not?

Someone is following me. I can hear the footsteps. It is not familiar to me. I whirl around; my hands form a fist, coming in front of me to defend myself for any signs of danger. It is only Mr. van Ripple.

"What are you doing, following me?" I demand, my voice harsh and cold.

"Miss Doyle noticed your lack of presence. She stopped the boat to look for you, however Miss Worthington, I am oblige to search for you with or without her orders." I feel betrayed as it already is. Now, instead of Gemma coming to look for me, she sent the illusionist after me? I am beyond hurt. I do not even want to remark on what he meant by 'oblige'.

"Well. It's Felicity!" I hear Pippa's pleased tone. She must have arrived while I was talking to Mr. van Ripple. Both of us look at her. There is something in her that changed. I am not sure if I was oblivious to it or if I just did not want to recognize it. But I can tell that this is not Pippa. Her beauty, it surpasses any kind out there and it is mixed with an unfamiliar taint. Perhaps it is magic?

Suddenly, I become more aware of my surrounding. Maybe it is because of the fire and smoke that this place is not recognizable, but I can make out the glass shards sticking out of the ground. The once most magical place in all realms. The magnificent beauty that captured my attention and took my breath. I have arrived where the runes are located.

Mr. van Ripple rapidly approaches Pippa, putting himself in between me and my friend. He takes out his wand that he used during his magic show, then with authority that I do not know he possessed, he speaks out, "Speak, you vile creature."

I am appalled. She is my dearest friend and he dares speak rudely to her? I glance at Pippa, wondering how she will take it. She just smiles. Menacingly. She looks at me, her smile turns sweet, but taunting. Her eyes, when she locks it with mine, it is so cold. It turns grayish-blue. The purple eyes that I love so much are buried inside the corpse.

Mr. van Ripple wasted no time; he attacks her, the wand pushed to her neck, choking her. He does not even wait for her answer. I scream. What are they doing? I see Pippa struggling to get the wand of her neck. She shouts my name. I stand there, frozen.

"I have the power. I am the chosen one." Pippa's voice booms. It is hollow, frightening. I see her touch the wand, break it in half. Her arms snake around van Ripple's neck and pulls him towards her. Her mouth comes to the side of his neck, opening and I can see fangs dripping with venom and lust. She punctures his neck and I see droplets of blood slowly flow.

I am deaf and blind and mute. I cannot scream in fright, much less utter a single word. I cannot hear the deafening cry of terror and I cannot see the glowing beauty of power. I am rooted at my place, no one to shake me and bring me to my consciousness. Grunting at the force when van Ripple kicked her stomach, Pippa releases her hold on him, rolling over and exerting so much power that I cannot ever imagine.

I am thrown back, like a lifeless doll. Too much pressure. Too much power. I will myself to stand, wincing every now and then. I had not anticipated that kind of force. What had become of Pippa?

She slowly stalks Mr. van Ripple who is coming to his feet. She grabs a fistful of his hair, forcing him to look up. She murmurs something to him and I see him smirk. Enraged, Pippa spits on his face and throws him aside, as if he is just a mere scrap of feather. His body slams against the runes and falls unconscious.

I am afraid now, terrified beyond my wits. I witness the side of Pippa that I refused to see. Gemma always pointed this out and I did not listen to her. That feeling is back, the one I felt before I went to the circus. That deep churning pit in my stomach. The swirling and bubbling of my blood racing in my veins.

"Come, Felicity. Sweetheart..." Pippa approaches me, bow and arrow in her hand. She gives it to me and I wonder what I shall do with it. She answers, "Let us sacrifice his life."

I jerk my head towards her. I have never killed! I wounded, but I never killed! That choice was left to Gemma by Circe!

My eyes wide, I shake my head at her, softly, then it becomes more vigorous. I push myself away from her, scared and disgusted. She comes to me, stalking me like a predator to its prey, all the while talking to me in hushed tones. She is comforting me; wanting me to realize what became of her and accept her. She longs for me to join her.

I cannot. Gripping my arrows tight, I warn her to stay back. For a brief moment, I thought her eyes flicker with hurt. She keeps coming on to me, her voice growing stronger and harsher. I nock my arrow and, with unsteady hands, fire. It flies past her and grazes her cheek. Blood seeps out of her cut cheek.

Her eyes narrow, glaring at me through them. Her mouth pulls back, revealing the sharp incisors her teeth became. She lunges at me, her claws, what used to be long, dainty hands, find my neck and grip them. She lifts me up, until my feet do not touch the ground. My hands fly to her wrists, struggling to pull her hands away from the tight grip she has on my neck. I panic; my breath comes in my mouth. Dots start to cover my eyes. My legs dangle and I swing them, trying to kick her. To free myself of her hold. None of these tactics work.

Without any choice, I grab an arrow from my back then strike it down on her face. It bleeds. Her porcelain face bleeds, creating a cross with the previous cut I gave her. She staggers backwards, cupping her cheeks until her fingertips smoothes the angry red welts marking her face. She snarls at me, so inhumane, so beat-like. Her eyes glow red; her back hunches like a wild caved beast. As if sensing her unnatural habits, she straightens herself composed.

I am bewildered. What happens now? I am still panting, coughing and spitting from the bruise she gave my throat. I watch her, warily and without warning, her arms whiplashes forward, palms open and I am thrown back to the runes. I cry out in pain and agony. The sharpness of the shards digs in to my back, piercing it deep and long.

Pippa retracts her arms and I move forward, floating on thin air. I feel the streams of blood trickles down my back, my arms, my legs. I am out of breath, my vision blurs, but I cannot let it end this way.

She has strength, I have hope. She has power, and I have faith. She fades from my view and I drop to the ground, lying helplessly on my pool of blood. My crimson blood. My tainted blood. Mercilessly, she yanks me backwards, her mouth skimming the shell of my ear. She whispers, "You know whose fault it is that caused Ithal's demise?" My breathing grows labour. My heart ached for me. For him. Ithal. "Yours," she answers.

Continuing on, she whispers, "The fool…the idiotic fool is helplessly in love with you, Fee. He followed you around like a lost little puppy." She taunts, "But you know what was the cherry on top of my dessert?" No. I know, but I refuse to believe it. It is impossible. No! Seeing my wild, untamed eyes, full of fear, she leans forwards and catches my lips for a deep, passionate kiss. Releasing, with her face inches away from mine, she breathes the answer I dread, "Sacrificing him!" She cackles deviously, her head thrown aback. "The fool! Oh, how sweet is the sound of his scream. Like music to my ears. And his blood. Oh his blood…gypsy blood. So delicious. So decadent."

Enough of this nonsense! I am weak, but I must prevail. I tackle her, surprising her with the strength I am left with. And, straddling her, I grab her head; pound it on the ground, my mouth set on a grim line. "Do not, ever, mention his name." I emphasize each word with a strike on her head. I am furious. Livid! Livid enough that I see red, that I smell that salty copper of blood, that I hunger for the sounds of echoing screams. But she laughs. Gritting my teeth, I dig my knee to her stomach, choking her. She wriggles under me, but I slap her face, punch her. Damage her. Her movements become weaker; she may have the strength, but she knows not how to use it.

She lets out a tiny giggle, and I feel the imminent pain clawing at my back. I must end this now. I lean forward, circling my arms around her. She returns the embrace. With few moments, I am content, at peace. Not for long. She starts clawing at my back, peeling off the dress, my skin coming off with it. I cry, I shout, but she continues her torture. With the last ounce of power I have left, I let it out. Blinding light bursts from me, enveloping us with warmth as I scream my excruciating pain to the crimson sky. I am still hugging her, embracing her with all my might. I see her eyes drift close, her breathing evens out. I let fatigue surround me, my eyes closing. And with my last breath, I whisper, "I promised not to let you go and I never will."

-o-

**Gemma's POV**

The frosty winter in the Winterlands bites my skin as painfully as the scorching fire from the forests mars it. We have arrived after a few hesitations of going back for Felicity. I hear her scream; I see the light penetrate the red sky open. Ever since that moment, I cannot calm my jumping nerves. I have a dreadful feeling that I will not like the outcome of this gory war. When I saw the light, I knew, then, that Felicity triumphed over those creatures. After I finish my task, I am going to wait for her boast of how she defeated them.

We stand, unseen by the Winterlands creatures. They are busy offering innocent lives to the regal tree in the middle of the Winterlands. They scurry about, capturing souls and feeding them to the Tree of All Souls as it talks to them about how it will lead them to eternal greatness. Full of power, full of magic. Full of sacrifices and deaths.

I look at my companions. I gave them the orders whilst traveling on Gorgon. Ann and the centaurs will go east; Miss McCleethy and the shape-shifters will take on north. Fowlson and the untouchables will head south, and lastly – to my relief – Gorgon and the forest folks will travel west. As for me, I will take on the magnificent tree and Amar themselves.

We scatter to our stations, moving swiftly and silently as to not blow our covers. I sneak past the creatures, using magic to hide my true identity. My head is pounding, as thoughts and images fly at my what-if questions. I try to calm my breathing, but my heart is already hammering against my ribcage. In between the heads of the creatures, I spy the tree; however, Amar is nowhere to be seen. Excellent. When I defeat the tree, all these creatures, along with Amar, will all be defeated. Easy enough, I think. Since it is a tree and it cannot possibly do any harm to me.

A shout, then a fierce shriek is heard all over the northern Winterlands, ruining and dividing the glorious moment of the creatures. They turn to each other, bewildered. Birds start to raucously cry as these creatures grow restless. "She is here! I sense her power. Bring her to me!" The tree orders; Miss Spence's voice spreads over the land, silencing all whispers and noises. The Winterlands creatures lift up their weapons and hail all at once. It is a mutiny between the dead and the living.

The creatures stampede everywhere, rushing in haste to find me. I am still hidden, watching every move made. I see my allies closing in on the middle part. They are brave and strong. I can see them fight with all the valour they can summon. There are hundreds of thousands Winterland creatures, but I see that we will overcome them no matter how small our group is. It is a hundred to one, like the sun to the planets. That is how little we are.

They are busy searching. Now is my chance. Without taking off my guise, I run to the tree. "There she is!" The Tree of All Souls thunders. It sees me, despite the heavily layer of disguise I applied without using much power. I race to it, the creatures swarming around me. They screech and claw; wanting to hold me captive and sacrifice my being to their god. To feed it my body, blood and soul. To replenish its powers from mine. Big, small; large and skinny, no matter how I look at them, they are all the same. Dripping fangs. Bloody talons, red demonic eyes.

I slip and skid as I avoid the grasp of the creatures. Snow and ice mix, staining the ends of my skirt. The dagger, Megh Sambara, I hold it; clutch it in my palm. Too many voices entering my vision but I only have one goal.

The roots of the tree snap upwards, breaking my footing. It grabs my right ankle, holds me high; yet I do not loosen my grip on the dagger. I am swung about and my body folds, flounders and drops like a rag doll. I am at the bottom of the tree, the base of the giant roots surround me as they continue to fly, smacking even its own allies.

I look up from my position and I see Circe's helpless body encircled in a cocoon of sharp twigs and vines. Her eyes are closed, but she is breathing. Barely. In her hands lay the other dagger. From Wilhelmina.

I reach for it, my fingers numb from the ice and snow. I try to pry her hands open, yet her vise-like grip is too strong for my bloody, blistered ones. I pull at her fingers. One…two…three fingers when suddenly her eyes jolt open. Her eyes dilated, unseeing…untamed.

"Miss Moore…?" I whisper. Her eyes focus on me and, as the kind teacher I knew her to be, she smiles tenderly, the smile reaches her eyes, then her fingers uncurl.

"Choices, Gemma. Choices." She sighs. Fluttering her eyes close, then open. "Destiny is no matter of chance. It is a matter of choice. It is not a thing to be waited for, it is a thing to be achieved." Choice. So many, sometimes none. It is a puzzle. A labyrinth. A trap. Yet, decision is where all power lives. I must choose one where there are some and must make one where there are none.

I hold the two daggers. Miss Moore, asleep, for all eternity. I rise to my feet, bringing my hands atop of my head; crossing them. I am ready to bring down the two daggers, ready to put an end on all this.

"Fool!" Deep roaring reaches my ears. Amar. He is here. I twirl, my eyes immediately locking with his blue-gray ones. My hands drop beside me, my eyes round. How can I even fight a skilled fighter? On a horse, no less? I retreat a step, and another, until I feel the bark of the tree scratching my back.

He raises his sword, my palms flatten; I turn my head, shutting my eyes.

_Blood…_

"Gemma!" Ann shouts.

Amar whips his sword down. I duck after a moment of being frozen. His blade marks my arms, my blouse stained with blood.

_Soul…_

I run away, behind the tree. Amar follows me on his horse. I hear the trotting of the horse's feet and I know he is right behind me, reaching out for me. I turn half way, slashing his arm with one of my daggers.

_Sacrifice…_

He does not flinch, but the trail of blood smears on his arm.

"Gemma!" More people shouting my name. Then, "duck!" I obey.

An arrow whooshes past my cheek, hitting the horse's behind. It neighs. More arrows follow, striking the horse until it falls, taking Amar with it.

_Power…!_

He jumps, more arrows fly in the air, aiming for my allies. My companions. My friends. They strike back; soon arrows rain down on us, hitting Amar's shielded body, prickling my own skin. I have to aim now. I have to aim properly. I draw back my arm and dart my dagger, hitting him between his collarbone. Right where his helmet ends and his cape begins. Right where the skull badge of Rakshana is pinned.

He drops to the ground, lifeless, after emitting a strange purple glow. I approach, slowly, my boots crunching the snow from my weight. My hand inches its way to the dagger, when his own seizes my wrist. I panic.

"No. Don't," he groans. "The Megh Sambara." I look at him, then at the dagger. He pulls the tainted dagger out, his blood running from it and dripping to the snow-covered ground. He mutters, "Megh Sambara…a god of protection against enemies." Then he gazes at me and gives me back the dagger. "Finish what my brother couldn't. Free me."

With the permission, I slay him. Without hesitation. But with promise and conviction. Another blood shed by my hands. But he is far from a sacrifice. He was willing to die. I didn't give the Tree of All Souls the satisfaction of gaining strength.

I turn away. Walking away as the blood spreads onto the snow. Now, the tree. I run, fast. Faster.

_Gemma…_

This voice. It is new, raw. It is familiar. Whose does it belong to? I keep running, the ice never breaks my stride.

_Gemma…_

I look around, confused. No one is in the vicinity. The Winterlands creatures are occupied with fighting my companions. So who –

_Gemma…you must kill it. You must kill it as soon as you see the signal…_

Signal? Who…what? I am meters away from the tree, my arm throbs painfully. But with my previous intention, I hold the two daggers, one on each hand. The cold wind pinches my cheek, the roots swat all over the place. I duck, I jump. I avoid the roots as they desperately chase me.

Just a few meters and I will reach it. Something catches my eyes. Light. A beam of light shoots upwards and pierces through the reddened sky all the way to the Borderlands. The light slowly spreads, but not quite reaching the crimson red atmosphere in the middle of the Winterlands. Above the tree where all blood is shed and all souls are devoured.

The runes…Mr. van Ripple…The signal! A gigantic root sweeps below me. I jump. Once again I raise the daggers and as I drop to the ground, I bring the daggers down, plunging them deep into the tree. I slice the bark, carving a long gorge on the trunk. It screams in agony, and the souls embedded slip one by one, escaping from their lengthy torture.

The tree bursts in light, I have to cover my eyes and turn my head away from the blinding intensity. It is a darker light compared to the one from the runes. The scream echoes in all Winterlands and the light conquers the crimson sky, piercing it as how the first light pierced the sky. The dark light spreads and merges with the lighter one. Dark and light, good and evil, Rakshana and Order…equilibrium is fulfilled.

Using my remaining strength, I take out the daggers from their deep embedment. The lights, which shot to the sky, surge to the daggers. I stare in wonder and amazement, hoping that there are no further threat remains. The daggers seep the vestige tail of light until they illuminate on their own will.

I look around. Done. The over production of snow melts from the heat of both light combined. The sky, from red to pinkish-blue, signals the beginning of twilight. I see Ann distances away from me. Miss McCleethy and Fowlson are still shadows away, supporting each other. Flowers and weeds spring from the ground where the grass, as green as jade, is visible. Gorgron and the creatures, both Winterlands and the Borderlands, seem to have made amends within the passing of time during the breakout of lights.

I am not disappointed at the outcome for these creatures since they are merely obeying what the Tree of All Souls ordered for them to do. They had no leader whatsoever, so their lives were in disarray. When Eugenia Spence came to take the place of their leader, they were given hope. Faith. Something to support their meaningless lives.

I wait for them to join me. I sit at the base of the tree, nursing my wounds. I already tucked each dagger inside my boots. I reach inside my pocket, and like other times, I take out the red cloth from Kartik. I smile wistfully, playing with the corners of the cloth. My eyes start to blur. I feel my heart wrench, but I am happy, nonetheless. I've done it, Kartik. I've freed your brother. Wait for me, love.

They gather around me, and I stand up. I look at each and every one of them. They all look worn out. Tired and sleepy. We all are. I motion for my allies to stand by me as I make a request. "I will put the power back inside the realms for all of us to use. Like how it was in the beginning and how it should always be." I start, their faces solemn. "There shall be no abuse of power; it will be equally distributed to all creatures – both Winterlands and Borderlands." They are listening intently.

I know that my plan does not equal to what Miss McCleethy foresees, but this is for the best. Better than sealing the power, owning it to oneself until rebellion uprises and greed rages. My plan involves trust and loyalty. It is a compromise and a risk that we all have to take.

-o-

As soon as we landed from Gorgon's ship, Ann, Miss McCleethy, Fowlson and I walk to the runes for Felicity. Like the rest of the realms, the smoke has diminished, the water sparkles like it has been sprinkled with diamonds. The land itself is blanketed with flowers – wild ones, common ones, and the lush green grass softens the ground, bending below our weight. The runes, like massive icicles dusted with stones and gems, sprout randomly from the ground below. We see all this, but no Felicity in sight.

Ann and I call her name. Sometimes teasing her with the anagram she came up with. When she fails to answer, Miss McCleethy tries to lecture her, chastise her. With lost hope, Fowlson takes the last turn. He threatens her with Polly, her wealth, with her title. But all is lost cost.

She could not have gone any where further. We separate our ways, it will bring more luck…more chance of finding her. I have a dreadful feeling about this. If what happened is what I thought happened, then I know that I am going to be numb. The shock would come later. The grieving, the heartbreaking. All of those would come later. But I must have hope. Hope is what pulled me through, and hope is what will support me later on.

I stroll slowly in the gardens. That is where she and Pippa usually spent their time. I notice the place where I saw her and Pippa passionately whispering to each other, loving each other. I part the thick ferns and tall flowers too see if she is inside. No. By the Temple, perhaps? I saunter the other way, enjoying the rays of sun warmly grazing my skin. A peek inside, and I found out that she is not in the Temple.

Then, it hit me, out of nowhere. Like an unknown badminton birdie dropping from the sky. Pippa. What has she done? And Mr. van Ripple. He said that he was going to go after Felicity. Both of them are missing. I know Mr. van Ripple died…but Fee?

I stop looking. I know that I will not find her no matter how hard I tried. I go back to the runes, waiting for everyone to return. Half hour later, I am joined by Ann. Another half hour, then two…all of us are here, without any signs of Felicity.

"Come on. I have one last place to go." They follow me. I lead them to the Caves of Sighs. My hands skim the circle and the hands in it.

"But…Gemma. She is not here." Ann whispers. Her face fills with confusion. She is closer to Felicity than I am. Or was. And I know that she will take this grief deeper than anyone else. Deeper than Martha's and Cecily's combined. I can only nod at her observation.

Taking the daggers from my boots, I place them outside the circle, parallel to each other. The Megh Sambara is studded with rubies, outlining the heavy gold of the handle. The blade is pure ivory, sharp and white. The buffalo head is engraved beautifully, full of small details, on the front of the handle. It has been showered with diamonds, big and small alike. The dagger Wilhilmina gave me is the complete opposite. It is encrusted with sapphire, the handle made of pure silver. The blade is granite, engraved with Latin phrase. _Porro Ago_. In the front, a Celtic head is carved. Taranys. Like the Megh Sambara, Taranys is showered with diamonds.

Megh Sambara. God. Protecting lives.

Taranys. Goddess. Sacrificing lives.

The rubies symbolize the never-ending struggles. The hardships. War. It also symbolize love. Passionate and infinite love. The sapphires represent unlimited supremacy. Control. Power. Another meaning is wisdom - loyalty. Last are the diamonds. White. Denoting purity.

One last treasure. I take off my amulet – the Crescent Eye. I bind one end of the chain on the handle of one dagger and the other end on the second dagger. I let the amulet dangle in between, just in front of the two hands intertwined.

Then, I am lost in the infinite tunnel of light.

* * *

A/N: Please Review

Next on _A Whole New Beginning:_

The secret of Mr. van Ripple is revealed. Gemma tells her father that she will go back to India to look for Kartik. Will she be successful?

Stay Tuned!


	9. Chapter Eight

A Whole New Beginning

A/N: I do not own any of the characters seen in the Gemma Doyle Trilogy.

* * *

Chapter Eight

It surrounds me. It fills my whole being until I cannot differ right from left and up from down. The light – so bright, so warm, so peaceful. I detect a sense of completion… oneness in my entity. It consoles every hurt, every bruise inflicted on me; physically, mentally and emotionally. I plunge and drown in happiness. In ecstasy.

Silhouette comes to view. Shadows of two beings. Just shadows, nothing more, sully the purity of the white background. I hear whispers, voices, and then argument brews. From the shadows perhaps? I cannot make out what the voices are saying. They are as muddled as the two figures of the ghosts. The voices overlap each other, growing louder until it comes to a point where it is boisterous. Different images fly to my head. Do I know these people? These places? Where is the momentarily sense of order I just felt? Ambiguity immediately dawns upon me. What is happening now?

-o-

_A man, a green robe cloaks his wide shoulders, move about a room. The room is tiny, unorganized. Books are placed on kitchen counters, towering on the floor, on the dining table beside the newspaper. Chairs are askew, clothes cover them, lone pairs of shoes just below the seats. The tableware and kitchenware are unwashed, until they pile on top of the kitchen sink. This tiny house is untidy. Filthy._

_There is a small light coming from the short burning candle. The man sits on an empty chair, setting his teacup on the armrest. He is reading, nodding every now and then as the information falls upon him._

_Outside, the needles of rain falls aggressively, prickling the skin of anyone who sets a foot on the other side of the arched wooden door. The windows tremble from the rage of the howling wind. It is autumn. Yet it is too cold for an autumn weather. The shadow behind the man dances every now and then as the light from the candle flickers._

_The door creaks open, revealing a young woman – no more than thirty years of age – entering the household. The man looks up from the book he is reading, greeting his visitor with a kiss. He puts an arm around her after he takes off her cloak. He gives her a towel to dry off and seats her on the chair he previously occupied._

_The woman, her eyes troubled, follows the movement of her lover inside the house. He is making her comfortable, but it is clear that she does not want any of it. She has her own important agenda which she is impatient to share._

_She stands up, halting the jerking actions of the man. She goes to him, her face tilted up to his. Slowly, as if hesitating, she puts her arms around his torso, her head leaning on his chest. Her eyes close and, for the briefest moment, the expression she had entering has calmed. The man is taken aback, but soon, he returns the embrace. Lovingly._

"_I cannot go on like this, forever." The woman whispers, her eyes still closed. There is a quick pause before the man answers gravely._

"_We have no other choice." He pushes her lightly, but he does not let her go. He holds her by her arms, looking at her face, seeking._

"_But…why does it have to be this way? Is there no other way? Will the Order and Rakshana always be – and forever more – enemies?" Her voice rises, uneasy. The man does not answer._

_They continue to stare at each other. Watch each other. They are silent, speaking in a language they only know. They caress each other, feel each other. Their hands and eyes read each crevice, every hills and valleys and they commit them to memory. The trepidation of the upcoming event is long gone; replaced in its place is pure loving, and mutual understanding as their hearts beat as one._

_-o-_

_The woman, now fifteen years older, sits on a chair; the fire in the hearth creates a warm glow about the room. It is winter and the cotton snow drifts from the sky endlessly, blanketing the ground delicately. She is writing, her glasses perched on top of her nose. Her hair is tied in a tight, neat bun, secured by a single studded barrette. _

_She looks at the clock on top of the fireplace. She sighs. It is half past twelve in the morning. There is a knock on the door. She pauses from her writing and look up, hope seen in her eyes; and a smile lightly tugs on the corner of her lips. The door opens, and the man crosses the threshold, stopping in front of her._

"_You came," she breathes._

"_Yes," he answers gravely._

_Question comes to her face. She is confused by how he answered, by how he is acting. She purses her lips and ignores his behaviour. She smiles wildly, her hands reaching for his own. She urges him away from the door, her face still bright. But he relents. She looks at him, her head cocks to one side._

"_What is the matter?" she questions him._

_He looks at her, his face voids of all emotion. Then, "On behalf of the Rakshana, I ask that you will no longer use these powers for your own greed."_

_He surprises her, hurt flashing on her face, and then settling on confusion, sadness. "Greed?" she questions._

"…"

"_Greed?! For goodness sake, you know what I…what we intend to use these powers for. Where did you get the foolish idea from?"_

"…"

"_Is it the Rakshana? Did the Rakshana put you up with this idiocy? Did they tell you what they think we will do with the power?"_

"…"

"_For heaven's sake! Will you not answer any of my questions?" The woman's patience is running thin. But the man does not answer once again. She is scared, lonely, hurt._

"_What is wrong?"_

"_You need not know what kind of business I run, what intentions I have. I must take my leave." His head bows down, and then he turns and walks away from her. Once he reaches the door, he mutters to her without looking back, "This is the first warning I give you. You must heed it." He closes the door behind him, never once detaching his eyes away from the floor. He leaves her alone in the room, on a cold winter's night._

_Full of desperation and sadness, she slides to the floor, heaving. She wants to force herself not to cry, but she could not will herself to. Tears flow on her cheeks endlessly as she cries and cries and cries. She sobs like a child, not silent streaming tears, but the one with the howl of pain and agony. _

_On the other side of the door, the man leans against it, his face tilted upwards and his eyes tightly closed, his brows furrowed. His mouth closed in a grim line as his chest moves up and down with every intake of breath. The tears are coming, yet they are suspended in the corners of his eyes. He blinks them back, erasing all the proofs of his suffering._

_He pushes himself away from the door and starts the long walk in the corridor. "This is for the best…" _

_-o- _

_His hands whisper against her ivory skin, skimming from her neck, to her shoulders, to her waist. His lips moving against hers, follows the smooth movement of his hands, stopping at the collarbone. His hands encircle her waist, bringing her closer to him, flushing her body against his. They continue to kiss deep and long, their heads tilting, taking the kiss to a deeper stage._

_She sighs, her body, boneless, molds against his as his breath tickles her neck. Her corset loosens and she can breathe in his scent, her hands combing his thick black hair. He cups her breast through the thin layer of chemise she is wearing. She arches upwards and her dress fell to the ground in a mere whisper._

"_Don't leave me." She sighs; her body languidly follows his on the ground softened by grasses and flowers. _

"_Never. I'll never let you go." He promises, then, with the privacy of the walls from the Caves of Sighs, he takes her – mind, body and soul…_

_She opens her eyes and finds herself caged in a strong pair of arms. She looks up and sees the sleeping face of the man she once loved. Still loves. Her eyes gentle and her palms cups his cherubic face._

_His eyes flutter open and he asks, "Did you dream?"_

_She smiles, but her answer comes out different, "Why did you leave me? You promised, that time at the Caves of Sighs, that you would not. Why then?" She pushes herself gently away from him, yet still remains in his arms._

_He looks away from her, then with renewed motivation, he locks his eyes with her and answers, "…Choices."_

"_You left me alone. I despaired. I was lonely. I was alone! I buried myself in books. I ate, I slept, I taught. But never once did I breathe. I could not! Years after years, I longed for you. I waited for you to come. To realize that I am here, that I will never go away._

"_It hurt, you know. I hurt, especially knowing that you will never come for me. After I lost hope within those unaccountable numbers of years, I was in daze. I was living in a nightmare that did not end. I couldn't make it end until that fire._

"_That fire…it rescued me. I was reawakened, I was able to hope. I…I was rejuvenated! Just a few more pains I needed to pay, but after that…after all those waiting, after all those hesitations, after all those longing and pains, I was promised power. I was guaranteed hope, power and everything I asked for!" She lets it drift off, lets him think what happened in her story next. She is looking ahead of her, playing with the pearl buttons of his shirt._

"_So you agreed. You became a pawn to the Tree of All Souls." He watch her nod gravely, her mouth twists into a wistful smile._

_He sighs. "Why don't you ever listen?" he says jokingly. "Have I promised anything that I have ever broken?" He pauses, allowing his question to sink in. She shakes her head. _

"_Three months," she looks at him, "three months." He repeats. "I was doing another business. I thought that if I happen to be successful in that business, I will leave the Rakshana. I proved to myself that I was successful and in that three months I was planning to come to you." There is a pause. A long one that she thinks he finished what he is telling her. Then, "But you didn't wait any longer…"_

_Her eyes widen, her mouth shaping into a small 'o'. She looks at him guiltily, her expression pensive. "I'm sorry." she apologizes with a voice like a child. He smiles at her, happily._

"_Never mind that now, love. I've had years to cope with it. I've already forgiven you." Her eyes glow with warmth and appreciation. Love. She grins up at him. "And," he stops, adding mischievous air around them._

"_And…?" she bites to his mischief._

_He draws her back to his arms, tightly. "And, from now on, we will have all the time we need for forever."_

_She laughs, her head thrown aback. "Yes," she agrees. "We will."_

_Savouring the feeling of him around her, she mutters sleepily, "I love you. I have always loved you. And I will never stop loving you, Robert."_

_Robert Sharpe, known as Theodore van Ripple, holds her to his chest, "The feeling is mutual. I love you too, Eugenia."_

_-o- _

"Gemma…?" Ann's voice is blurry. "Gemma?" she calls again, bringing me out of my stupor. I finish my task. And I have saved the realms. What did I just see? Another vision? Maybe Eugenia Spence created the chaos because she was incomplete. Because she failed to see that no matter what fate brings, love more powerful than realm magic, cannot ever be broken. Eugenia Spence and Mr. van Ripple. Who would have ever known? The Order and the Rakshana, the Tree of All Souls and the runes, evil and good. All is in balance in realms. I have achieved what I set out to do. What my mother wanted me to fulfill.

"Let us go. Miss Nightwing might worry."

"But, Felicity…!" I shake my head, my eyes cast downwards.

"Sorry."

-o-

_Felicity Mildrade Worthington_

_April 11, 1879 – May 7, 1897_

_Beloved Daughter, Cousin and Friend_

Solemn.

That is what we all feel in Felicity's funeral. Numerous people visit, yet those who are most important do not. Her classmates and teachers attend, we are there too. Polly, Ann and I. Yet, Felicity's parents are missing. Her mother is probably in France and her father is back with the navy.

I see Simon Middleton in the throng of people, wearing black, just as the rest of us are. He is at the far back, clutching a single white flower. When people disperse after brief and quiet farewells, he slowly approaches the tomb, laying the lone flower on her grave. But I do not linger further more. I have had the chance to cry. To sob. To accept.

Just yesterday night, right before I went to sleep, my tears flow endlessly. I held Ann in my arms, cradled her as she released all the pent up feelings from Felicity's death. She has been affected the most by her friend's peril. And I am scared for her. Will she refuse herself of her dream once again? Go back to being a governess for her spoiled cousin? Will she go back to punishing herself with a blade? More scar to add after this agonizing one?

And what of Polly? Will the Admiral continue to haunt the little girl's dream? They are a broken family. If I could, I would bring them to my household, but like them, my family is broken to millions of pieces.

These things are out of my hand now. Not even the magic can save us.

The second funeral consists of only me, Miss Nightwing and Miss McCleethy. We read:

_Robert Sharpe – Theodore van Ripple_

_September 8, 1846 – May 7, 1897_

_A Victorious Entertainer_

His tomb is laid beside Miss Spence, by the hill side. There is a single bouquet marking both of their graveyards. The wind blows, the grass flutters like butterflies beneath our feet. _May you rest in Peace._

-o-

The curtains are drawn, blocking the moonlight. The Doyle household is quiet except for the tinkering of the maids. I hold my father's wrinkled hands in mine, examining them, comparing them from before – when he held me in his arms in fright of the tiger's intention.

We are talking about everything we can think of. Our present lives, our goals in the future and the memories from the past. He is sober and excited. His eyes twinkle, his laugh coarse. It is such a merit to see him back.

"Papa…have you ever thought of going back to India?" I ask him, the topic sudden.

"Going back to India?" he repeats, as if he cannot believe what he is hearing.

"Yes. India."

"Well…I most certainly have!" He makes this expression as if the answer is most obvious. "I have always thought of going back. We were happiest there."

"I agree papa. And I want to go back, too. Would you come?" More surprise comes to his face. I see him waver. I push further, "Grandmamma can stay here. She has lived here all her life. And since Tom has his doctorate, he may stay as well. He can take care of her." I say, proud of my haste decision.

He is silent as he considers about my preposition. He drums his fingers on the armrest of the seat. I wait eagerly for his answer. It will be fun. No brothers to get under my skin, no grandmother to command what a lady should do or should not do, no upstanding society to please with my reputation. It will just be India. Me, father and…Kartik.

Maybe…maybe he is the reason I want to go back. I want to search for him. I want to introduce him to my father and have him accept Kartik for me. I want to see him, to know how he has been doing these past few months. I want to talk to him, to tell him I've come back for him. I want him to remember me. I want him. Longingly. Desperately.

"When…are you supposedly going back?" Father chooses his words carefully.

"Papa…not supposedly. I am going back. Three days from now." I realize I told father heavy news. He shrinks back to his seat, his eyes cast downwards, mouthing a barely understandable 'oh'.

He looks at me and must have seen my thrilled expression. He shakes his head, adding, "Gemma…I have a duty to fulfill here."

I am unbelievably shocked. "But…but, what duty?...Opium?...Alcohol?" I know I am behaving with childish antics. I know what I retorted back is not fair to him since he was grieving. It was not his fault that he acted the way he did. He thought he did not have any other choice. He wanted to be free of hurt, he had been suffering long enough, and yet he did not know how. So he turned to alcohol and drugs.

He flinches at the words I threw at him, at the expression I gave him. I am blatantly disappointed, but I just lashed out, which I should not have. He has already gone through a lot, and I need not add more.

One intake of breath, a deep one, and I try to calm myself down. "I'm sorry." And I am. Dreadfully. In a meek voice, I ask my permission, "Is it alright if I go by myself?"

Pause. Then, "Yes."

* * *

A/N: Please review!!

Next on _A Whole New Beginning:_

It's what you've all been waiting for!! Gemma and Kartik meets!! Did Gemma make the right choice after all when she sent Kartik back to India?

Stay Tuned!!


	10. Chapter Nine

A Whole New Beginning

A/N: I do not own any of the characters seen in the Gemma Doyle Trilogy.

* * *

Chapter Nine

**Kartik's POV**

Sanita, an old yet wonderfully kind woman, has instructed me to chop up logs for bathing and cooking. Today, of all days, has to be the most scorching hot. I round the corner and pick up an axe. Holding it with both steady hands, I impale the logs one by one. The sun shines down on me, perspiration starts at my brows.

With a grunt, I put the chopped woods and the axe down, feeling my trousers for a cloth or a handkerchief or anything that I can use to wipe my forehead. There is none. I cannot find my favourite red cloth since two and a half months ago.

"…Kartik! Mr. Karik!" Failing to find any means of fabric, I wipe the beads of salty water with the back of my hands. "Mr. Kartik, Ms. Sunita informed me that I will find you here. She told me that you'd be chopping woods and she also told me that you are free after this task." I let her continue her ramblings. I know there is much more to come. "Perhaps, after this…perhaps you can teach me –…after this –…can you teach me how to read?"

Nikhita, two year younger than I, is one of the first people who approached and befriended me since I arrived in India two and a half months ago. She has a juvenile atmosphere that I cannot help but indulge myself with since I have never gotten that kind of liberty when I was a child. She is enthusiastic to learn, especially reading and writing. Arithmetic? Not so much.

Since I arrived here from England, she knows I can speak proper English, thus asking me three weeks later to help her learn. I like spending time with her – she reminds me of the childhood I never had – and helping around my neighborhood. Although the pay is not much, I think this job is better than the one I had in England.

Sanita took me in after I discovered that the place where I used to live had been destroyed by a land slide. There was no one important to me there, I was living alone. My brother seldom came home, but when he did, we rarely talk. Nevertheless, I still loved him.

"Just give me a minute or two, then I'll wash up. Wait for me by the front stairs."

-o-

**Gemma's POV**

Three days from now, the ship that traverses between England and India will be ashore. I defeated the Tree of All Souls two months ago. Two months this vessel I am currently in takes to make the trip between two countries. Two months I have longed for a company. Two months to reason out why this idea is not irrational. And two months to ponder about a certain Indian boy I could not help to fall in love with.

In what ways would Kartik think of me now? Would I be Miss Doyle of the Order? Lady Doyle of the Doyle household? Or Gemma…just plain Gemma?

Oh, how I miss him so. Ten weeks I spent without his overwhelming presence. Without the cinnamon and evergreen scent of his. Without those dark, inky eyes and dark, large hands that consumes a terribly large space. I dwelt and grieved for the treacherous creature I was.

There was no choice. No other choice, but to do what I did. It was either betrayal or death. I cannot cope with death. His death. So the very likely choice was to betray him. Turn his trust against me. Turn his love to hatred. Use his hatred to save him.

Yet…how can he ever feel those emotions when I am the very reason as to why all those memories were slain? Not quiescent, but slain? To evaporate like water to air, or to disappear like a stolen good?

And since I robbed him of his memories, is there someone who holds a special place in his heart? His whole heart? From top to the deepest bottom?

I hurt, just thinking about this. Yet, what right do I hold in him? I stole his memories, broke his heart, almost sent him to his death when I pleaded for his alliance and killed his only brother.

I know we initiated a friendship on an unpredictable and tremulous ground. Yet, we continued to construct it until we conquered an unfamiliar territory – a territory where no one explored, where a commoner and a lady associate and an Indian and English become lovers. But does it have to end the same way? Us being strangers? Nothing more and maybe something less?

I have thought about this for nearly two months. Yet, every time I think I have the answer to these questions, I always end up without anything. Always being lead to a dead end. The path of no answer.

I have learned so much this past year as I grew from one age to the next. I let myself explore and wander and delve into the unsung verse of our relationship until I discover that there is no way to unlearn what is learned. Yet, no matter how much I educate myself, this situation will remain unanswered.

Sometimes, having known that there is no turning back from the infinite love, the pain of having it divided eats me inside out. The confusion and the guilt fill that chasm. And sometimes I wonder why I made that inevitable choice. And sometimes I remind myself of the answer. That no matter how much I desire him – desire to be with him, I cannot take chances of the unexpected future.

The choice. There has to be more than two. And there was. My choices and his. But I did not consider his…at all. I am terribly selfish to only think of myself, when I thought that I am thinking of his affairs. A relationship consists of more than one person, so…why did I take over ours? Everyone involved has a contribution to make in that relationship, so...why didn't I give him his privilege to do so?

These questions often haunt me, making me more vulnerable than I was against the Tree of All Souls.

I sigh. Another half a day wasted thinking. What I must do is to think of a plan. A plan that will prepare me for my search. I sit up from my bed, and look around the plain white room I am assigned in. Not so much, except for a double bed, a vanity mirror and a desk with a quill, ink and stack of papers.

I walk towards the desk and pull out the chair. I sit down, looking for a comfortable position. With the tidy space in front of me, I lean over and take one of the papers carefully designed with a heron on the right top corner. I dip the quilt in the black ink and settle it on top of the paper, not quite touching it.

What shall I write?

A carefully calculated plan or a letter to Tom?

I decide on the letter. Tom will announce that he got a letter to grandmamma and father anyway. Thus, I can tell him whatever I want, not like to father or grandmother where I have to watch everything I write.

Sighing, which seems what I do plenty of lately, I tilt my paper and stroke the quill I hold in my hand on it.

I begin:

_Dear Thomas,_

_I am almost at India now. Just three more days before I reach the country. How have you been? Is father well? How did grandmamma take the news of me leaving to India? I – _

I do not particularly know how to continue with the letter. I do not also think that I started it well. I crumple the paper and start with a fresh one.

_Dear brother,_

_I am still in the ship for India. There is no mail carrier located here so I will drop this off when I find one in India – _

That one does not sound right either. I throw it in the thrash and start over again, frustration coming to me.

_To my beloved brother, Tom,_

_Well…I am writing to inform you that I am safe and sound. Although I do not think that you are concerned, but you might as well pass the message to father and grandmother. I have spent about two months in the ship, and three days from now, we will be landing in India. I assure you that I will tell you all my adventures, and perhaps the secret I was willing to share with you._

_Speaking of father and grandmamma, how are they doing? Be sure to hide the bottle of alcohol from father. I believe that it his in his antique cabinet. Keep an eye on him, Tom. Do not let him go outside alone. Grandmamma, well I am even afraid to ask (laughs). I want you and father to persuade her that this is one scandal I am willing to risk. All my life, Tom. I will risk all my life for this._

_Now that I've touched the aspect of secrets and risks, I might as well tell you the rest. Hopefully you understood what happened when I rescued you in the abandoned bodega. Come to think of it, I wonder why a high, all mighty brotherhood has a meeting in a bodega of all places (laughs). All is over now, the thing with the Order and Rakshana. Yes, thing. I do not know how to explain it in any other simple words. I guess incident would do. But the word is a bit…restricting._

_I have avenged mother's death too. Tell father that mom has moved on happily. No, I do not have any gifts in seeing ghosts, but I know that she has._

_I believe father has told you why I am making this permanent excursion. He told you that I have more freedom here in India than in England, correct? That is part of the reason. The other part is…well…I am sure that you know about the employed hand father hired. Kartik. Yes, him._

_Karik was part of the Rakshana until he betrayed them for my safety. Hopefully that will gain your opinion of him. Continuing, Kartik and I…we…during the whole episode of the realms and magic and the Order and Rakshana, Kartik and I…well…we have gotten closer. I seriously hope that you can read between the lines since I will not be telling you any more than that (laughs)._

_It does not matter to me whether or not you tell grandmother and papa any of this. I hope you are doing well._

_Yours truly,_

_Gemma_

_P.S. _

_Perhaps you might want to give Ann Bradshaw a chance. _

I fold the letter and close it with a stamp. I finger the edges, breathing deeply, thinking nothing. I sit there, staring at the paper in my hand and doing nothing. I am oddly calm. With a shake of my head, I bring myself out of the stupor and insert the letter in my luggage. I will drop it when I get to India, along with another letter regarding how I fare during my settlement in the hot country.

Another task done, now move on to another matter.

-o-

**Kartik's POV**

I terribly miss the afternoon in India. The sun, while not burning, is hot against my back; the rays softly flitting like a butterfly, touching ever so lightly.

I sit on the stairs, Nikhita beside me. I finished my entire chore; I already have taken a quick cool bath in the creek about half a mile behind the small, packed village. I flip the book open, reading the lines and words. It is a novel between what seemed an unrequited love, or a love between two people, fate playing with them like pawns on a chess board. I close the book and take a quick peek at the title: _Wuthering Heights._

I cannot say I read the book before. It is familiar though. I thumb through the pages, Nikhita eagerly waiting for me to start. I take a deep breath and prepared myself.

"Nikhita…I haven't read this specific book before. Would you mind if I read it tonight and help you out with it tomorrow?" She shakes her head, slight disappointment reflecting in her eyes. But she covers it immediately that I doubt I saw her disappointed face.

Five days pass by. It is so quick! Like the hare in the fairy tale where it has to race against the tortoise.

I read the novel over and over, sometimes confusing myself as to who is retelling the story. The housekeeper or the guest? I finished the book twice and now I am going through the parts where all emotions inside me just swell up and bound to burst.

'"_Come in! come in!" he sobbed. "Cathy, do come. Oh do – ONCE more! Oh! my heart's darling! hear me THIS time, Catherine, at last!"…There was such anguish in the gus of grief that accompanied this raving…and vexed…nightmare… produced that agony…'_

I feel this way sometimes. I lay at night, my head resting on my arms as I stare up at the wooden ceiling. When I am awake at the middle of the night, sleep has not visited me, I will suddenly feel a deep churning in my chest. As if I am falling, down, down, down the darkest secret of the earth and no bed supporting me. In those times, I will jolt forward, my hands will grip the edges of my mattress and I will look around, seeing that I have never left, that I have not fallen into that secret place.

Sometimes I dream. I dream of a faceless red head girl. I dream of a garden, a black knight on a steed, a cave. I dream of kisses utterly surreal, caresses from white dainty hands, whispers of hope and love. Sometimes I wake from the delicious pain beneath my stomach that I had to get up in the middle of the night and take a cold dip in the creek.

It is dawn. The sun reflects gold in the dark night sky. Neither pink nor purple appears for the smooth transition of the sky. Before the sun completely takes over the sky, I want to visit a place I always do once every three days. A Hindu temple not far from here.

I garb myself with trousers and collared shirt, the outfit I had when I returned from England. This is the only suit I have in my possession that is considered formal. I sneak around the house, keeping my footsteps quiet, thus not waking up the residents. If I calculated the time properly, I will be back about four to five hours before noon.

I walk, savouring the cool breeze against my skin, rustling my hair. I am in dire need of a haircut. My locks, when I do my chores, sometimes fall in front of my eyes. Bothersome. I look at the sky, watching the remaining stars twinkle. I need not look at the path since I remember every twist and turns I make.

Once I reach the temple, I see the Hindu idols perched in the shrines along the side of the temple. I walk down the middle of the vast, spacious room. My footsteps echo inside, seemingly thunderous compared to the quietness and the stillness of the environment.

I stop. Before me is the large statue of our god. I raise my head and look up at him and his eyes appear to stare back at me. His face is illuminated by the rows of candles on either side of him, giving him a magnificent eerie glow. I kneel in front of him and pray.

-o-

**Gemma's POV**

When we landed in the crack of dawn two days ago, I saw Sarita, our housekeeper, waiting for me by the dock. She took me to our house we previously inhabited in about a year ago. Perhaps Tom or father contacted her in relation to my arrival. On our way home, she helped me carry the bags I brought and offered me foods she prepared. I was famished. The foods the ship presented had a peculiar taste in my tongue.

She asked me what I was doing, and I recognized the implied question – she wanted to know the reason for my arrival. I explained to her that I already had my debut, and now I am considered an adult in the society. I can now make decisions on my own and thus I decided that I will live in India as I had been living in it for the past fifteen years.

As soon as I woke up from my nap on my first day, I immediately started my search, with a few helpful advices from Sarita, one in which where the mudslide buried the market place and a few houses meters underground months ago.

The market place. That was where my mother had been devoured by a shadow…a monster. That was what I used to think of then. Now, I know better. I know it was Circe who killed her and Amar. Circe, whom I trusted as Miss Moore, who I sealed in the Temple and who gave me back the dagger to finish off the Tree of All Souls.

I walked around in my first day, trying to feel a sense of familiarity now that a year has passed. I could feel the curious stares of the Indian citizens because I am different. I am a sophisticated English lady to their eyes, but what they do not know is that I used to like – and there is a chance that I still do – running around, climbing trees like a child bathing in mud, instead of sipping tea, munching on crumpets and listening to Mozart and Bach.

The first place I went to is the new location of the marketplace. It is not any different; nothing has changed except for the items on sold. I still had to move with the throng of people covering every inch of the frenzied place, had to listen to shouts as bargains were yielded and watch the pink tongue of the cobra slither between its poisoned fangs.

No sign of Kartik. Yet, I still spent most of my day looking around and purchasing items that I seem to be quite fond of. Like the Indian deity statuette. Kali, the destroyer. The one my mother accused me of having her as a constant company as I stubbornly dwell on the choice of going to London.

The second place I went to in my second day is the newly built homes for those who were struck with ill fortune of having their humble abode buried.

I was hoping, with my fingers crossed, that I will stumble upon Katik there since he used to live in that area before the whole new episode of my life began. In the remote and quiet place where families star anew, I still did not find Kartik.

I asked around since I heavily lean on my knowledge that Kartik has to be around here. I saw a girl with a frown on her adorable face. She reminded me of Ann. Perchance she is only a year or two younger than I. I already turned seventeen last month on June the twenty-first. And I spent it solitarily on the boat.

The girl looked up when I approached her. I saw that she was reading _Wuthering Heights_. I thought that maybe she was fluent in English. I smiled at her and greeted her, "Good afternoon."

She looked hesitant, her gaze dropping shyly to the book. She saw that I was wearing the same dress as the woman in the picture on the front cover. Thus, glancing up at me, to the book and back at me once again, her face slowly transformed to a hopeful grin. I just continued to smile down on her. She opened her mouth, but her mother's voice, I assumed, calling her inside the house, abruptly ended what she was planning to tell me.

And now, for the third day. Today. 'Three times' is a charm; therefore on my third try – today – I am terribly hopeful that I will find him.

I did not get a deep sleep last night. I was busy committing the image of the girl in my memory so I can ask her today.

I get up from my bed, the sun has not gone up yet. It is dark and cool, an absolute contrast of the day. I take off my flimsy nightgown, so translucent that if light is held behind me, everything would be seen. I blush, remembering the first time Kartik saw me in the church by Spence Academy. I was only wearing my nightgown, regrettably sure that no one is around. But he was there. He was always there.

Instead of donning my usual corset and dress, I hold out a choli complemented with a sari and a dhani. The choli is vaguely tight, coming to end at my midsection. Then I wrap my sari around my body, covering all places that I have never bared before. It brushes my legs and abdomen, stroking, waving like the calm currents of the sea. It is cool to touch, soft to feel. Like silk and cotton merging. Lastly, covering my red, bulbous hair, I pin the dhani around my neck, securing it in place. Instead of my shoes that covers every part of my feet, I put on a pair wooden sandals, my toes and ankles hidden.

I walk around, staring up at the sky, my arms crossing to protect me from the chilly air. If any one is not asleep, they would not recognize me as the girl from England. The stars twinkle and I continue to walk, following the path they made for me.

I am calm. I have never been this calm before. Everything is cool, quiet and…peaceful. It seems that in the vast universe out there, I am the only living one, dwelling on the phantasm I created. I walk endlessly, not seeing, not thinking. Only feeling. Just feeling.

I look down from the sky when I noticed that orange start to emerge out in the horizon. The stars are still clear, but they lessen in number. I have lost track of time, but right before me is a tall, magnificent building. Endless curves and mazes are carved architecturally. Colours fly and blend into one. I walk, in daze. Slowly approaching the building. I am besotted by the beauty and undying glory of the edifice. I mounted the steps until I am taken in front of an arched doorway.

Inside is capacious, and along the sides are little houses for the mannequins of Hindu gods and goddesses. I look around and finally setting my sight on the big effigy, and I spy a boy bowed down to it.

He is praying. He is kneeling, his head tucked. Black curly hair tumble down his head, ending at the collar of his shirt. Wait…collar? My eyes traveled further down. Pleated pants…trousers?

Is this boy English? It is hard to tell. I see a prospect of him being a brunette. I walk further down, my wooden sandals clacking at the paved floor. I stop, bending down to retrieve my footwear. Again, this time silent, I approached the boy, wanting to have a closer look at his face. I peer at him in the shadows, his face half glowed as the flame on the candle wick dances.

I keep my eyes on the face, running them on the cheek, the closed eyes and parted lips. I get closer, the lights glow brighter, helping me look at the boy.

I lick at my lips, suddenly they feel dry. I stop walking, meters still away from him. But I make no sound. I dare not to breathe. Then, ever so slowly, I see the eyes open, his head tilt to look at the statue above him. And my heart stops beating.

* * *

A/N: Please Review!!

Next on _A Whole New Beginning:_

Kartik and Gemma meets face to face. Gemma is in a turmoil of emotions: would Kartik remember her, or all is forgotten, even their love? And as Gemma tries to face her chaotic world, would she fail or succeed?

Stay Tuned!!


	11. Chapter Ten

A Whole New Beginning

A/N: I do not own any of the characters seen in the Gemma Doyle Trilogy.

* * *

Chapter Ten

My breath hitches; my voice, stuck. I am frozen in my position as I watch the light play on his face. The long lashes, the curve of the nose, the strength of his back. I am drawn. I am drawn to him. To Kartik. I found him.

I am happy. Beyond happy. I want to shout, to yell in the midst of dawn. His eyes flutter close, the lashes brush against his cheeks. Kartik. I want to run to his arms. To jump and embrace him with all my might. To tell him everything is over. To tell him that everything is alright. That we can be together.

My blood boils, and my heart starts beating. Furiously. What I seem to feel ice cold from the moment he left me suddenly thaws, flowing vigorously in my veins. My senses all aim at him. I drink the sight of him; I smell the heady scent of cinnamon; I feel the potency of all the muscles rippling under the collared shirt, his very presence; I see the glowing vitality he emits.

I stand on my spot, all thoughts flow at once, drowning me. Memories, feelings…all these knock me off my feet and steal my breath.

Kartik stands and my knees unlock. He dusts his trousers and turns around. His eyes link with mine and they widen in surprise. His jaw relaxes and he backs up a step.

I run away.

-o-

**Kartik's POV**

I hear clicking sounds of sandals but I continue my prayers. I focus on my thoughts as I pray, closing all my senses to those around me. My knees stop hurting from my position, my breathing evens out. And I pray.

Everything is quiet. Unnaturally quiet. But I feel someone watching me. That is purely the sense I am having a hard time to close. It usually bothers me when someone comes and takes me by surprise, but this time, I do not feel irritated. I feel fine. I feel safe.

I end my prayer; my eyes, opening. I stand and dust myself. I turn to look at the person who is watching me. Her eyes, unshed with tears, get wider with surprise, her arms lifting in front of her. She staggers backwards and I watch her spin and scamper away.

-o-

**Gemma's POV**

I run. Fast. The sandals I am holding drop to the ground, I let them go unconsciously. The deity statues and the temples are just blurs to me. I do not know when my eyes started to water, but I feel tears run down my cheeks. I wanted to run to him, but why did I run away?

Barefoot, I head towards the door. My thoughts just fly away from me. I do not know what I am doing, I just did what my instincts tell me to do.

Maybe I am afraid. Maybe I am not ready to face him. Maybe I want to turn away and ignore all the feelings that I will see on his face. Maybe I do not want him to see how I feel.

I do not have the strength to see the anguish in his eyes, the anguish I have seen before when I spat at his face, taunting and disgracing him. I knew the damage was already done and I cannot face the fact that I was the one who sent him to his hellish reality. The pain I feel is undeniable. Scorching hot and bitter cold all merge in my veins, toppling me upside down. With blood, toil and tears, he suffered, but I suffered more. And I am still suffering with the brutal consequences.

When I dream, I dream of him. I dream of holding him, encompassing him in my arms, my soul. I dream of the soul-shattering kiss we shared. I dream of the sweet passion when he takes me beyond the skies, the stars, and the universe. I dream of our twilight zone where everything is harmonious and comfortable. Then, nowhere I knew it comes out of, his face will twist in irrefutable hate and torment, and the light in which his eyes held happiness turned repugnant on my cause.

I keep running. Suddenly, a hand clamps down on my wrist and stops me from going on. I spin, surprised, looking down at our hands.

"Wait." His voice. Oh, his voice. It reverberates in the temple, overpowering everything that I feel.

I look up, look at his eyes. Those warm brown eyes that hold mine. I take a deep breath and pretend that I do not know him, that he is just a stranger I accidentally walked upon on.

"Yes?" I say with authority I am sure grandmama would be proud of. I must veil the recognition in my eyes, in my body movement; else he would know how strong his presence affects me.

His face, from disoriented, slowly turns to smile. The smile which I robbed him off when I degraded him. The smile which I have not seen from that moment on.

"Gemma…"

The world falls on me, giving me all its weight and I falter. But…but I took all the memories away! I enchanted him with my powers and eradicated all the memories. All memories. The Rakshana, the Order, the realms…everything!

How…?

"Gemma," he say, once again. Smiling. This highlights every curves and indentations of his face - the cheekbones, the nose, the brows, and the mouth.

Seeing my bewildered expression, he chuckles and I grow more confused. "Gemma…that magic. I know that magic you weaved. I know all the truth you fabricated. I had my consciousness when you recklessly put me under a bloody spell. Yet, no matter how I commanded my body to work, it did not follow any of my desired orders. And…even for a little while…which I cannot deeply accept myself…I had forgotten about you. You felt familiar to me. But, no matter how much I thought of you…I could not remember a single thing. It hurt. It hurt to forget someone when…when I feel I know you."

I face him and he continues, "I thought you knew how the magic works." His voice and his eyes tease me. But I do not know where he is going with this. There is silence after he said that. Probably he is letting this message dawn on me. I simply look up at him, gazing intensely at his eyes. People say that eyes are windows to one's soul. Yet, I cannot read his, no matter how deep I look. He stares back, then sighs.

He tugs at the wrist he is holding until I stumble forward. He catches me in a tight embrace. "Fool." He whispers. "Gemma, you are a terrible fool."

I savour the moment, burying my head in the crook of his neck. I inhale his scent; my arms, going around him, clutching at the cloth on his back. I have longed for this moment. For days and days, I have never wanted anything more than I wanted this. I have always thought of this and cherished everything that we had.

The world, which I thought abandoned me to my self-tortured inflictions, has come to right itself from the jagged puzzle it became. My heart mends itself and the temperature of my blood evens out. No more conflicting of ice and fire. This bittersweet pain that I feel, the sudden relief that drowns me and lifts me off my feet, bring tears to my eyes. They form and I blink them before they fall.

"What do you mean?" My voice is muffled.

"Did you seriously think I would forget forever? The magic, all of its blood and toil, only serves for two hours to two days…foolish, Gemma." He gives another chuckle.

I tighten my hold on him and curled my body until I feel his heart beat under mine. I move my head to his chest, and he, in turn, nuzzles my neck, then, rasps something that caused my tears to flow suddenly. Endlessly.

"I miss you…"

My heart, from hearing this, just burst out with joy. I am overwhelmed with feelings. Love, the most prominent of all. I want to channel out all my feelings and I sob and sob. I cannot stop the tears and I cannot calm my racing heart. I hold on to him, tighter and tighter; closer and closer. Breath against breath. Heart against heart. I try to talk, but, through the tears, I choke out what I wanted to say.

"I miss you, too."

Kartik simply holds me tight.

-o-

The sun peeks through the horizon, the orange more visible than black. Kartik and I are walking back to the village, his hands wrap around my waist, holding me close to him. I sigh, leaning closer.

"Gemma…" I feel his voice trembles against his chest. He says my name so soft, so deep. So seductive. "Why did you do it? Why did you let me go? At that time, in your room…when you told me that I cannot offer you merits seeing as I am a mere Indian, I wanted to retort that you find my filth amusing and you cruelly smear me with it."

Silence follows. I was dreadfully guilty, and with the passing of time, I discover that it does not heal what I felt. I still feel as raw and bruised and guilty as I have been. "I am terribly sorry, Kartik. I truly am. I…That is…I was…Seeing you fight with me – side by side, with me – brought me pain. I…I could not let you go, yet I knew that I had to.

"That dream…The dream you had, it was naught but a trick. A trick for you to come with me. And…and I could not let it happen, you see. Because – because if I did…let it happen, I mean…then – then you would surely die. I…I cannot bear to have you perish since I…since I…I want you to be with me…with me, forever." I confess. My voice, strong and confident at first, ends up in a pure whisper. I do not know if he heard it, but I will not say it again. I will not strip my soul to him unless I know that he returns my feelings.

"Gemma." he stops walking. I follow suit. I face him, and he lifts his hand, resting it on my cheek. He caresses it. I feel the calluses of his palm and the soft flesh beneath it. I lean against his touch, his warm hand. And my eyes flutter in sweet bliss.

"Hmm?" His thumb goes in front my ear, then slowly, his hand drifts to my neck. It slides to the back until he is cupping my head. I let a smile touch my lips. I relax and lean my body against his whole entity. His other hand snakes to my waist, and then to the small of my back, until he is holding me fully in his embrace.

My head finds his shoulder and his nose strokes my jaw, his lips hovering above my neck. "Let us dance, Gemma." The hand on my neck travels down to my shoulder, then my arm, then reaches for my hand. His hand leaves a warm trail down my arm, tingling me with a familiar sensation.

"Yes, Lord Hoity-Toity." I joke. But I realize what he meant. He will be dancing with me. Kartik as Kartik and Gemma as Gemma. No other persona. No other lies. Acceptance. A complete acceptance between us. And I am willing to do it. Willing to accept and jeopardize my whole being if it means for my heart to be held in his hands. And his in mine. Forever.

"Teach me how, Gemma." And I do.

-o-

**Kartik's POV**

She is dainty in my arms, frail as porcelain. Yet, her strength is unlike any other. Her strength matches with the celestial bodies, namely Megh Sambara, the protector; and Kali, the destroyer.

The light strikes her face, giving her an ethereal glow, and her hair – a majestic halo of red. The times I held her are nothing compared to this. Those times were quick and almost often ruined. Especially that one moment in shed, where we danced. I was hurt by the double meaning in her words. During that time, I could only think of one implication and not the other. I cannot enlighten myself to any reason as to why she chose me. An Indian. Yet, I knew the truth. However, believing the other is easier and more sensible.

"Let us dance, Gemma." She does not question. She simply flows in my arms, taking a step towards me. I reach for her hand and position ourselves.

"Yes, Lord Hoity-Toity." She smiles up at me. It is radiant. Her face. And her emerald eyes glow with tease.

"Teach me how, Gemma." I pull her closer, my hand touching her back. She falters, I smile. I realize that she is embarrassed by our closeness, and her eyes even with my bare collarbone.

"How does it go?" I whisper, letting my breath brush the shell of her ear. I feel her shiver and her breath becomes quick, quiet pants. Perhaps she does not want me to know how I affect her. I give a silent chuckle.

"We're too close." She mumbles, her voice trembles. I smell the flowery scent of her hair; I savour it, taste it in my buds.

"No. This is alright. You are far too tense when we are apart." I give her a small squeeze, and to my amusement, I notice the quick rise of her blood in her cheeks.

"But, we are not quite moving." I look down at our feet. We are swaying, back and forth. "Dancing requires movement from place to place."

"Then, we shall." Keeping our position, I lead her backwards, taking an enormous step that had her laughing.

"Kartik!" She complains, yet she does not object to my leading.

We are there, just the bottom of the temple, with the sun rising, dancing to our heart's content. For two months, I have longed for this right moment. To hold her in my arms as she rightfully fit in my embrace. To dance with her as if we are equal; and we are equal as far as the two of us believe. To shower her with my kisses as she sighs and mellows, willingly sacrificing herself to me.

We move forward, back and sideways. No matter how silly we look, we keep on going. We relish this moment, memorizing every steps taken to our memories and hearts and souls. As I slow down to come to a stop, she murmurs, "Do not forget the dip."

With that said, I take her low, my hand on the small of her back creeps up to support her. It is sudden, and she is taken by surprise. She gives a small squeak, which I put to silence when I give her a hard, fast kiss on the mouth.

"Thank you for the dance, m'lady." Her hand leaves mine, then I feel both of them coming to rest on my shoulders.

"Thank you for the kiss, Mr. Kartik." I right her to a standing position. "I believe I shall give you one in return." Pushing me forward with one hand on my back, and bringing my head down with the other, she captures my lips for a sweet, passionate kiss.

Her mouth opens when I lick her lower lip, and I take the chance to deepen it, probing every crevice I find. Her heart beat under mine and her fingers lace themselves in my curly locks. I push her to me, bringing her closer as I cup her face, tilting it to further deepen our bond.

My heart hammers against my chest, my breath quickens, my mind fogs. "Kartik…"She whispers.

I pause, lifting my head up to look at her. Her hair, disarray; her lips, swollen and red; her face, flushed and her eyes, excited. Her breath comes as quick as mine and I assume that my expression is very much disheveled like hers.

"The Caves of Sighs…" _Joining of souls_. And she takes me to the realms.

* * *

A/N: Please review!

Next chapter is the last. It's the epilogue! This is going to be a surprise for you all so I will not post any "Next on _A Whole New Beginning:_"

I hope that you will like this and the next chappie!

Stay Tuned!


	12. Epilogue

A Whole New Beginning

A/N: I do not own any of the characters seen in the Gemma Doyle Trilogy

* * *

Epilogue

**Gemma's POV**

I hold Kartik's larger hand in mine. It is warm and completely covers my own. I lead him to the gardens, the butterflies and ladybugs fly merrily and the deer are frolicking to their heart's content. The flowers bloom and spread out in their random faction and the sky, blue and cloudless, is as clear as I have never seen before.

We glide through the endless slopes of grass, hand in hand, when Asha stops and appears before us.

"Lady Hope," she greets, then turns to Kartik, "Lord Hope." I snicker at the name and I try to muffle my laughter when Kartik gives me a disparaging look soon after he gave a discomfited one to Asha. "There are people who want to have a word with you, Lady Hope." Asha announces and hops to the riverside. Kartik and I follow her steps.

I spy Gorgon and her slithering hair. Riding her, I see Pippa, Felicity, Ithal and Amar – a peculiar group. Kartik falters in his steps and I know the reason for it. Amar. The last time they met, Amar led a legion of corrupted Winterlands creatures, their pledged fealty only to the great knight.

"Ahoy there!" Felicity calls. I wave my hand and the plank of the boat opens. Felicity and Pippa race down the plank and run towards us.

"We had a long time to wait for you, Gemma. What are you up to this time?" Felicity jokes. Ithal approaches behind her and his hand comes down on her shoulder. She smiles at him, no contempt hidden behind the expression.

Seeing my bewildered expression, Pippa confessed sultrily, "We came to an agreement to share Felicity." As if that explains all. Felicity smiles at the people surrounding her, her hand clasp behind her back. They return the smile. All of them happy, peaceful. Neither jealousy nor greed is thought of.

I nod lamely. I thought Felicity has a charm for the same orientation. But this might explain as to why she behaved enviously with Simon Middleton. She not only likes people of same genders, but the opposite as well. Clearly, I am glad that the three of them found a common ground and a happiness that they deserved.

Of course, assuming that Felicity accepted and professed her underlying passion simmering for the gypsy. Perhaps passion would not suffice since here, in realms, no status is far greater than another, thus she could have expressed all the feelings she had been suppressing.

"Kartik." I turn the other way and facing Kartik, Amar had look nothing like the Amar I fought. He smiles to his younger brother and his face shine with the presence of youth and vitality.

"You chose your woman well." Amar teases. I felt my jaw slackens and Kartik flushes a healthy shade of red. Amar laughs heartily. "She has fulfilled your duty, my dear brother." His eyes flash with mirth. They are not the inky shade of black and blue I feared, but a reflection of Kartik's warm brown eyes. "She has set us all free." Kartik nods, peace overtaking his features.

"I'll let you go." He whispers.

I turn to my comrades and echo Kartik, "I'll let you go, too."

They turn back to Gorgon and Kartik and I watch the ephemeral figures disappear in the horizon as they move on to their beginning of the next chapter of their lives.

-o-

Kartik and I make our way in the realms to the Caves of Sighs. Once we step inside, I make no other move as his fingers skim and brush the newly decorated cave. His fingers run to touch every twinkling gem and trace the thoroughly carved designs on the gold rods.

"Megh Sambara," he whispers to himself before asking rhetorically, "I thought of it misplaced. Is it ever was?" I offer no answer, simply shaking my head.

I stand at the mouth of the cave, watching him eat every detail. It is unreal, like I am outside looking in a world I do not belong to. I stay silent and I continue watching Kartik make his capricious moves across the cave.

He fingers the crescent shape of my necklace, his face somber. "I remember this." My attention shifts to him. "I remember mother telling me about this necklace." He faces me, yet he stays in his position. "You told me once that the Rakshana and the Order were once lovers." I nod, following his speech.

He turns his back to me once again, his palm cupping the ornament. I walk up to him, my hands folding in front of me. Nearing his stark figure, I catch words he soliloquies, "What is lost and what is yearned, shall never cease its fading. What is lost and has returned, shall have a whole new beginning."

"Kartik?" I approach him, my footsteps in silence.

"My mother told me that the figure of hands in a circle is a joining of souls." I nod, already have the knowledge of the symbol. He turns to me, his eyes searching, falling deeply into mine. "What my mother also told me that the crescent eyes is the joining of hearts." He smiles faintly at me.

"Joining of hearts. The Order and the Rakshana were once bonded, heart, body and soul. Remember the poem? 'What was lost and has returned shall have a whole new beginning.' The Rakshana and the Order, once they are lovers then lost each other. They returned – through us – and the realm will start anew." His hand slips underneath the amulet to lie on top of the hand in the circle. He is waiting for me to do the same.

I want to point out that we no longer belong in the Order or Rakshana. However, formerly that we are and now we returned to restore what was in the past and start afresh. My heart thuds like drum beats, slowly, effectively, as I look at him then at his hand. Without hesitation, without question, I slip my hand beside his, our skin brushing with contact. Then light consumes us.

"Kartik? Kartik!" I call out.

This is very much like the last time we were here. The light slowly disappears to view the magnificent site. Yet, instead of the white sands of the desert, with Kartik sweeping me off my feet and carry me on a horse, I see white sands of the beach. The tall palm trees and the salty breeze of the wind. A tropical island?

"Kartik!" I continue to yell his name. How can I get out without him? I walk, my feet already wading in the cool water. I gaze around. The place is spectacular! Not once in my life had I been in the tropics.

I see my skirt bellowing with the water. Instead of sari, my attire has changed to that of an English one. I take of my shoes and sit on the sparkling sands of the beach.

Kartik. I smile to myself. I never thought I'd seen him without ill judgment towards me. For countless nights and days, I have yearned for him, yearned for the if's and could have been's. Now I see no reason to, for these wishes will become my reality.

"Gemma." I feel a tap on my shoulder. Kartik, behind me, and the sun splays on his features. I feel the blush rise on my cheeks when I notice he is bare-chested. I avert my eyes, playing with the sand.

I say meekly, "Where has your shirt gone to?" He looks down on himself, then at me before smirking.

"Is something the matter, Miss Doyle?" if possible, I feel my cheeks grow hotter. My lips purse when I look back at him, trying not to notice his attire – or lack thereof. His eyes glow with mischief and his smile, demented.

"But perhaps, there is, kind sir. " I say coyly. My shoulder shrugs. I believe I have taken him aback seeing as his teasing expression wavers to hide his surprise.

"Oh? How may I be of help ridding the problem?" He realizes my intent and decides to play a game with me.

"Well, kind sir. You see, it is but the tropics and I find the weather to warm for my liking." He listens to my explanation. I hide a grin. "And, you see, I am clothed with layers of fabric and I am merely wondering if you would be a kind help to offer me a hand unveiling them."

I see him gulp, his eyes wide. I let out a boisterous laugh when he takes the chance to slip his tongue inside my mouth. Before I can respond, he leans his forehead against mine and whispers – his mouth brushing mine with every word – "Perhaps I will."

Then his lips brush my eyes, closing them; trailing down to my ear where he nips patiently, teasingly. His mouth, then, caresses my jaw, trailing soft kisses until he reached my lips where he plants an undeniable full, firm kiss.

He cups my head, deepening it as his finger thread in my red hair and his other hand comes to my waist, pushing me flush against his solid body. His thumb and forefinger slowly unbutton the fastening on the back of my dress and I arch up to him, my hand going around him to support myself.

My corset loosens and I am able to inhale the cinnamon scent I have come to love. His palm slides up to my sides, then cups my breast as his face nuzzles the cook of my neck. He slips his knee in between my legs and gnaws on my collarbone. I hold him in place as my dress and chemise slithers down my feet.

I step out of them, then I feel his arm under my knee, the other on my back while he carried me and lay me down on my back. I reach for him and he comes willingly in my embrace, fitting his body snuggly on top of mine.

His kisses are butterflies and his touches are whispers, heating my skin up. I have not noticed when he sheds the rest of our clothes, but as he takes me to the throes of unforgettable passion, I know that no words are left unsaid. He comes back to me after I lost him. I love him and he loves me. For eternity. And we are going to create a new beginning.

END

* * *

A/N:

That is the final post of _A Whole New Beginning_!

This is my present to all of you! Merry Christmas, Happy New Year and Happy Holidays!!!

Please Review!

I hope that you liked reading this story as much I had writing it!! Enjoy!


End file.
